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ciioicu; 

SERIES 
No. 129. 


^ystenous 

Mr. Howard 


By John R. Musick, 

Author of *'The Columbian Historical Novels,” etO- 

LLUSTRATED BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 


YORki 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

jpUBLISHERSi 


Florence Warden's Great Novef, 


The Mystery of the 

Inn by the Shore 


By 

Florence Warden, 

Author of "'The House on the Marsh f etc. 


With Illustrations by Charles Kendrick. 


12mo. 314 Fa«:es. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


This IS the $r,ooo prize story recently published in the New 
York Ledger, and now reissued in book form. The story was a 
great success as a serial, and we do not doubt will be popular in 
book form. It is a good novel from beginning to end. The 
mystery is preserved so well that it is almost impossible to divine, 
with any degree of certainty, how the story will come out until 
the conclusion is reached. When published in the Ledger 
were over one hundred thousand competing answers for the cash 
prizes, and the answers indicated a great body of interested and 
intelligent readers. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent postpaid 
on receipt of price by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


America’s Greatest Family Paper for 1896 



52 NUMBERS A YEAR.X 


20 Pages Each Week. 
5 Cents a Copy. 


8 Special Numbers, 
$2.00 a Year. 


ENLARGED AND IMPROVED. 

During 1896, the New York Ledger will contain more attractive reading 
matter than in any year of its splendid history. mIzc will be 20 pngeN 
iii»«tefifl of 16 iingcM. This change of size will enable the publishers to 
give a much greater quantity of matter, for which arrangements have been 
made with the most popular writers. In addition to its continued stories, 
which have always been the best and most popular, it will publish illus- 
trated sketches, articles by famous preachers and authors on the leading 
topics of the day, a delightful Children’s Column, Correspondence Column, 
Scientific Articles, a department devoted to fashions, household infor- 
mation and domestic affairs, entitled the Woman’s World, and a thousand 
and one articles on topics of general interest, each number containing 
something for every member of the family. 

The following is a partial list of our contributors for 1896 : 


Eudyard Kipling, 
Julian Hawthorne, 
Elizabeth Olmis, 
Jerome K. Jerome, 
Mary E. Wilkins, 
Florence Warden, 
S. Baring Gould, 
Kalph H. Shaw, 
Mrs. N. S. Stowell, 
Anthony Hope, 
Mrs. Alexander, 
Amelia E. Barr, 
Eugene Field, 
Hamlin Garland, 
Martin Hunter, 


A. Conan Doyle, 

J. M. Barrie, 

Bret Harte, 

Brand er Matthews, 
Olive Thorne Miller, 
Sarah Ome Jewett, 
Mary Kyle Dallas, 
The Duchess, 

Sarah Grand, 
Gilbert Parker, 
John E. Musick, 
Eben E. Eexford, 
Maxwell Gray, 

S. E. Crockett, 
Charles F. Holder, 


Prof. Felix Oswald, 

Mrs. Burton Harrison, 

Eev. Dr. John Hall, 

Eev. S. P. Cadman, 

Hall Caine, 

Seward W. Hopkins, 
Frank E. Stockton, 

E. D. Blackmore (Author 
of “Lorna Doone”), 
Stanley J. Weyman, 

Effie A. Eqwlands, 

Miss Br addon, 

Ian Maclaren, 

Virginia Niles Leeds, 

Will Lisenbee. 


With such a list of contributors, the Neto York Ledger will be the most 
interesting weekly family paper published in the United States. Sample 
copies sent free on application. 

Address all communications to 


ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, Publishers, 
Ledger Building, New York. 


Little Kit. 


BY 

Effie Adelaide Rowlands, 

Author of *^At a Great Cost,” Pretty Jane,” etc. 


With niiistratioiis by Charles Kendrick. 


12mo. 327 Pages. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 60 Cents. 


‘^Little Kit” is the second novel by Effie Adelaide Rowlands to 
appear in our Ledger Library. The first, “ At a Great Cost,” 
has proved to be one of the most popular ot recent novels. Miss 
Rowlands is a writer who can tell a good story with sentiment, 
incident, plot and interesting people. The heroine of “Little 
Kit” is a girl to win the attention and sympathy from her first 
introduction, and the story is all about her. Every girl who has 
to pass through trials will be stronger and happier for reading 
little Kit’s history. There is nothing that is more universally in- 
teresting than the story of a true-hearted woman who has the 
best dower of her sex — love, beauty and faith in man. Such a 
woman is little Kit. 

For sale by all. booksellers and newsdealers, or sent postpaid 
on receipt of price by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


MYSTERIOUS MR; HOWARD. 


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JOHN R. MUSICK, 

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Author of *’‘’The Dark Stra?igerf etc. 



NEW YORK; 



PUBLISHERS. 


THE CHOICE SERIES : ISSUED QUARTERLY. SUBSCRIPTION PRICE, TWO DOLLARS PER ANNUM. NO. 18$, 
march 1, 189S. ENTERED AT THE NEW YORK, N. Y., POST OFFICE AS SECOND CLASS MAIL MATTER. . 


\ 


Copyright, 1895 and 1896. 
By KOBERT BONNER’S SONS. 


(All rights reserved.) 



PRESS OF 

THE NEW YORK LEDGER, 
NEW YORK. 


MYSTERIOUS MR. HOWARD. 


CHAPTER I. 

AT NEWBURG TAVERN. 

N EWBURG was once a thriving little Missouri 
village, and a popular candidate for the county- 
seat, but the Civil War stopped its growth 
and dwarfed its ambition. After the war, the long 
contemplated railroad, which was to make of New- 
burg a prosperous Western city, came, but missed 
the village by five miles, and established the rival 
town of Rushville. From that day Newburg began 
to decline. The “big road,” once traversed tri- 
weekly by the great six-horse stage, became a path, 
and the continued encroachments of grass and 
weeds bade fair to hide it from sight. For a whilfe 
the inhabitants of Newburg made a desperate fight 
against the rival town, but one by one were com- 
pelled to yield. The blacksmith moved his shop to 
the railroad town, and the carpenter thought he 
would fare better by doing the same. The mer- 
chant discovered he could no longer sell goods at a 

I 7 J 


8 


Myste7^ious Mr. Howard. 


profit in Newburg, and thus one by one the inhab- 
itants left> until the village was little more than a 
cluster of deserted houses, which the forest and 
weeds threatened to bury with the road. 

There was one stubborn man, however, who re- 
fused to leave the deserted village. It was Uncle 
Reuben Price, who kept the old-fashioned tavern. 
He had been a prominent man in the village in its 
prosperous days, when his tavern was crowded 
with guests and the great overland stage made his 
inn headquarters. Uncle Reuben had never re- 
covered from the blow that had fallen on his village, 
and bade fair to go to ruin with it. He hated the 
railroad and rival town which had ruined his busi- 
ness, and declared he preferred to starve in New- 
burg rather than prosper in Rushville. His tavern, 
like himself, was old and gloomy. The weather- 
boarding had not seen paint for years. The old- 
fashioned sign creaked in the wind, and the pig- 
weed, jimson and wild mustard grew closa to the 
door. 

Uncle Reuben and Aunt Rachel, with two ancient 
colored servants. Cater and Aunt Aggy, were the 
only inhabitants of the old house. Uncle Reuben 
and Aunt Rachel were childless, which everybody 
thought a blessing, for what child, youth or maiden 
could ever be happy in so gloomy a place as the old 
Newburg tavern? Two more families lived in 
the neighborhood of the village. One was the 
Widow Nielson and her children, who lived in a 
house over the hill, and Samuel Newton, whose 
farm “.cornered with the town.” 


MysteriotLs Mr^ Howard, 


9 


A strange place, indeed, for a bright and happy- 
young girl to come and spend her vacation, yet Mr. 
Jordan Wells, a brother-in-law of Uncle Reuben, 
and a prosperous merchant in Wellsville, notified 
the old people he was going to send his daughter 
Flora to spend the summer and autumn with them. 
Uncle Reuben and Aunt Rachel would not have 
been more surprised had they been informed that 
the governor would stop with them, and began to 
speculate on the strange conduct of Jordan Wells. 
Uncle Reuben lit his pipe and asked his better 
half: 

“When did you see Flora last?” 

“ Been five years. Rube. She warn’t nothin’ but 
a child then.” 

“ How old is she now ?” 

“ She must be eighteen. I guess she ’s a young 
woman, an’ I ’m afraid won’t find this old, gloomy 
house very invitin’.” 

“ If she don’t like it she needn’t stay.” 

“ I guess Jordan sent her here t’ keep her away 
from Horace Rathburne.” 

“ Who ’s Horace Rathburne ?” asked Uncle Reu- 
ben, without removing his pipe. 

“ I don’t know, but I ’ll bet my head it ’s some 
feller that fell in love with Flora, an’ he ’s a-sendin’ 
her here t’ git rid of him.” 

Some onnery good-for-nothing scamp.” 

Next day Flora Wells came. She was brought 
from the depot in a carriage, with her trunk 
strapped on behind. Aunt Rachel met her with a 
kiss, and hoped she “ wouldn’t git homesick in this 


lO 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


old house.” Flora was very pretty, very plump, 
with blue eyes and golden hair ; but her cheek was 
stained with tears, and she seemed so sad that the 
good-hearted Aunt Rachel called to the black 
woman : 

“ Come here, Aggy, and help the poor child up t’ 
th’ east room we fixed fur her.” 

Yes, missus.” 

“ Cater, help this man carry up the luggage.” 

“ Yes, missus. Ole Cater look arter dat. Golly, 
boss,” he said to the driver, who was helping him 
with the large trunk, “ et seem mos’ like ole times 
t’ tote a trunk upstairs.” 

Flora looked the picture of despair when she 
reached the apartment designed for her, and sink- 
ing into an old, well-worn arm-chair, burst into 
tears. Aunt Aggy’s heart was touched. She 
leaned against the mantel, and with every linea- 
ment of her ebony face depicting deep, heartfelt 
sympathy, said : 

“ Now, chile, dar am sumfin a breakin’ yo’ po’ 
little heart. Won’t you tell Aunt Aggy? Dis 
hain’t all homesickness, I know it hain’t. What 
am it ?” 

“ I can’t tell now. Aunt Aggy. I am very foolish 
to give way to this, but I can’t help it. Leave me, 
and I will be better soon.” 

Left alone, the heart-broken girl closed and 
bolted her door and again fell into the chair and 
wept. 

In order that the reader may not be kept in sus- 
pense, we will state that the surmises of Aunt 


Mystei'ious Mr. Howard. 


1 1 


Rachel were correct. Flora’s father had in his 
employ a young man named Horace Rathburne. 
He was an active, intelligent, industrious young 
fellow of twenty-three, but cursed with that com- 
mon enemy of genius, poverty. His father had 
been a soldier, and was killed during the war, and 
his mother had been an invalid for years. That 
Horace, whom Mr. Wells had taken into his store 
to keep from the poorhouse, should presume to 
love the only daughter of the rich merchant, was 
too absurd for Mr. Wells to seriously consider at 
first. 

But Cupid plays strange pranks, and when the 
little mischief-maker has decided upon a victim, 
poverty, station, society and rank cut no figure. 
Horace Rathburne loved, and his love was returned. 
The apprehensions of the father were at last roused, 
and he began to watch his daughter. The height- 
ened color of her cheek, the increased brilliancy 
of her eye when in Horace’s presence, with the 
confusion of the young man, confirmed what had 
at first been only a fear or suspicion, and it all ended 
in his discharging his faithful clerk and sending his 
daughter to this out-of-the-way place to forget her 
lover. 

When the noon meal was ready. Aunt Rachel 
went up for Flora, who was in a calmer state and 
seemingly partially reconciled. 

“Now come down, child,*’ said Aunt Rachel, 
kindly. “ Dinner ’s ready. We hain’t got much, 
but what we have yer welcome to. I want t’ask 
ye all about yer ma— and the other folks.” 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


I 2 


Uncle Reuben, Aunt Rachel and Flora were all 
who sat at table that day. As Aunt Rachel “ helped 
Flora’s plate,” she kept up a running fire of ques- 
tions about her father and mother, and why she 
came to spend her vacation in Newburg. 

“ I did not know I was coming until I started,” 
the poor girl answered. 

“ Oh, yes, yer pa saw ye war too close confined in 
that ’cademy, an’ sent ye here fur fresh air. Well, 
thank th’ Lord, we got plenty o’ that, though we 
hain’t much else.” 

Though, as we have seen from her remarks. Aunt 
Rachel had strong suspicions of the truth, she did 
not mention Horace Rathburne. She tried to make 
Flora happy, and resolved in her own mind that 
she would make inquiry about Horace Rathburne, 
and if he “ warn’t too bad,” she would help Flora 
out, even if she made an everlasting enemy of Jor- 
dan Wells. 

“ I don’t believe in lettin’ poverty break hearts,” 
she declared to her husband when they were 
alone. 

“ Better break hearts than starve bodies,” grumly 
replied Uncle Reuben, lighting his pipe. 

The sun, like a great ball of fire, was hidden be- 
hind a mass of somber-hued clouds banked up along 
the western horizon. Uncle Reuben and Aunt 
Rachel were sitting on the long, old-fashioned 
porch, as they had sat day after day for years, 
looking for custom which never came. Their 
lonely lives were filled with sadness and disappoint- 
ment, and they could sympathize with the heart- 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


13 


broken girl sent to them by a stern father who 
believed he was doing a sacred duty. They gazed 
down that road which year by year was growing 
more dim with disuse, and their minds went back 
to a bright, happy past, gone forever. In her large 
room, cn desJiabilU, sat the lonely girl, far from her 
lover. How far she knew not, for she knew not 
the whereabouts of the wanderer. The subdued 
glow of the sun’s fading light fell on her dimpled 
shoulders warm and white, while her pretty, sor- 
rowful face bent over two precious treasures she 
had carried next her heart, making a sad but pretty 
picture. One of these treasures was the photo- 
graph of a young man of twenty-three, whose large, 
dark eyes gazed with a lifelike fondness on her face. 
It was an open, manly face, just such as would ap- 
peal to the love of a sensible girl. 

The second treasure was a letter hastily written 
with a pencil. The words were few, but, coming 
from the heart, to her they spoke volumes. The 
letter was as follows : 


“Dear Flora: That I regret the harsh act of your father, 
I need not tell you, for you know it. As he is your father, I 
must respect him and believe he thinks he is acting for your 
best interest. In anything else I would respect his wishes, but 
until you reject me yourself I shall fondly cling to the hope that 
you will one day be mine to love, cherish and protect forever. 
My heart can never be another’s, for you have it entirely. 
Wherever I go, wherever you may be sent, I will contrive some 
way to .find you. I shall seek employment in another town, and 
as soon as I am settled will find means to communicate with you 
and see you as soon as possible. An interview now would be 
imprudent, if not impossible, as it would only heighten your 
father’s anger and make him more stubborn. Adieu, dearest. 

“Horace,” 


14 Mysterioiis Mr, Howard. 


She fondly pressed the note and photograph to 
her lips again, murmuring : 

“ Dear, dear Horace, where are you to-night ? 
Oh, I will pray God every day to help us in this 
terrible ordeal ! In Him alone must we now hope.” 

While the unfortunate girl was weeping and 
praying in her apartment, struggling between the 
love of parents and her betrothed, Uncle Reuben 
watched the light fade from the landscape ; then 
knocking the ashes from his pipe, and turning to 
his wife with a sigh, said : 

“ No custom to-night, Rachel.” 

He had made the same remark day after day 
since the village had begun to fall to decay. His 
voice was mournful, and as he bowed his gray head 
in his hands, he was a pitiful object. Aunt Rachel 
made no answer. She was knitting her husband’s 
stockings, and having dropped a stitch, was strug- 
gling in the uncertain light to “pick it up.” She 
was about to suggest that they go in, when there 
fell on her ears the distant sound of wheels. 

“ Rube ! Rube ! somebody is coming !” 

He started, as if he expected to see the old six- 
horse stage coming back loaded with passengers, 
and his dull ears almost fancied they once more 
heard the music of the driver’s horn that had so 
often gladdened his heart. A great, dark object 
was certainly coming up the disused road from the 
bridge that spanned the stream on the west, and he 
saw in the deepening twilight the form of a man 
on the box holding the reins, driving a spirited 
team. 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


15 


“ Rachel ! Rachel he cried, starting to his feet, 
“ am I gone crazy, or is the old stage come back !” 

‘‘No, Rube, ’t ain’t. It’s one o’ them close car- 
riages. What on airth is it coinin’ here fur?” 

The carriage was driven up to the old stiles, the 
door opened, and a tall, pleasant-faced gentleman 
got out and advanced toward the porch. 

“ Is this the Newburg tavern?” he asked. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Are you Mr. Price, the proprietor ?” 

“ I am,” Uncle Reuben answered, rising 

“ Could you board a lady and two children for 
awhile ?” 

“ I guess so.” 

With a Missourian “ I guess so ” is as much an 
affirmative as yes. 

“ Do you have many customers ?” asked the tall 
man. 

Aunt Rachel could not repress a smile, for since 
the deer-hunters of the winter before, their tavern 
liad not had a guest until Flora’s arrival. 

“ We ain’t no one now but my niece,” Uncle 
Reuben answered. 

“That’s well,” remarked the tall man, thought- 
fully. “We want a quiet place.” 

“ Are you goin’ to stay with ’em ?” 

“ I shall be here occasionally.” 

“ Well, if yer folks are in th’ carriage, hev ’em git 
out, an’ I ’ll call Cater t’ carry in th’ luggage an’ put 
up th’ bosses.” • 

“The carriage will not remain, sir.” 

The tall stranger went to the carriage and assisted 


i6 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


a pretty woman of twenty -seven and her two chil- 
dren, a boy of five or six and a girl of three, to 
alight. It was plain to be seen they were his wife 
and children. 

Cater carried two trunks up to the room the new- 
comers were to occupy. They were well dressed 
and had airs of urbanity, indicating education and 
refinement. The lady, a quiet little woman, seemed 
resigned to this out-of-the-way home, as a model 
Christian wife and mother should be. 

“ What ’s yer name, mister ?” asked Uncle Reu- 
ben, when the .strariger had seen his wife and chil- 
dren to their apartment. 

“ Thomas Howard,” was the answer. 

“ Have you folks had supper ?” asked Aunt Rachel, 
putting her head into the room of the Howards. 

“Yes, it was early, though. You may bring my 
wife a cup of tea, if you please.” 

“ Aggy — Aunt Aggy !” called the hostess at the 
kitchen-door, a moment later. “ A cup of tea fur 
Mis’ Howard at once !” 

“ ’Fore de Lawd, fo’ mo’ boa’ders-!” chuckled Aunt 
Aggy, as she hastened to draw the tea. “ Bet dey 
find dat Newburg ’mount ter sumfin’ yit.” 

When the cup of tea was passed in, the door was 
closed, and no more was seen of the Howards until 
next morning. Shortly after breakfast Cater took 
Uncle Reuben aside and whispered : 

“ Dar am a big black boss in the stable, sah, 
which dat Massap Howard say am his, but how dit et 
get dah ?” 

“ Feed and curry it, Cater. ’Tain’t none o’ our 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


1 


business, so lie pays fur it,” said Uncle Reuben, 
feeling in his pocket for tobacco to light his pipe. 

Mr. Howard remained all the day in the house 
with his family, but when evening had come he 
tenderly kissed them adieu, and mounting that “ big 
black horse,” galloped down the road. 


CHAPTER 11. 

THE STANDISH BANK ROBBED. 

It was one of those intensely hot afternoons in 
Missouri, when exertion is torture and existence a 
bore. The sun beat down on the glittering clay- 
hill roads leading into the dull, lazy little town of 
Standish, and the hot, quivering air was not stirred 
by a single zephyr. It being the farmers’ busy sea- 
son, Standish was unusually dull. The merchant 
spent the morning hours pulling weeds from his 
garden, while the clerk lolled on the counter and 
pored over the contents of a three-day-old paper. 
In the afternoon the merchant sat on the shady 
porch in front of his store in his shirt sleeves, 
fanning himself with a broad, palm-leaf fan, while 
the clerk within closed a bargain with a sixteen^ 


i8 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


year-old girl for the sale of a paper of pins and 
a spool of thread, and talked of the coming pic- 
nic. 

The ring of the blacksmith’s hammer was the 
only indication of industry. A farmer had come to 
town to get the cycle of his machine mended. 

The cashier, bookkeeper and clerk of the Standish 
bank were at their desks, occasionally glancing at 
the hands of the clock on the wall, and wishing 
they could go to the cool river and plunge their hot 
bodies into it. 

Standish was a small place of not more than fif- 
teen hundred or two thousand inhabitants, but the 
merchants did a thriving business when the har- 
vest did not keep the farmers at home. At this sea- 
son of the year the vaults of the bank were uncom- 
monly well filled with money. Cattle-dealers were 
waiting for the fall trade to open, and consequently 
had deposited their funds. Many farmers had sold 
their early wheat, which, with the money of the 
great lumber mill on the stream, swelled the de- 
posits to twice the usual amount. 

All the people of Standish were not noted for 
their thrift or industry. Like all villages, Standish 
had its proportion of loafers, men who spent most 
of their time on the streets, doing just enough odd 
jobs to support them. It was a hard season on loaf- 
ers. There was no food for gossip, no excitement, 
and nothing beyond the dull routine of sitting on 
dry -goods boxes, whittling and telling stale jokes. 

On the porch in front of John Layman’s store sat 
Enoch Ralls and Cris Martin, two typical Missouri 


]\Iysterio7ts Air. Howard. 


19 


villag:e loafers, who worked just enough to keep 
from being classed vagrants. 

“It’s powerful hot,’’ said Enoch, taking his red 
bandanna handkerchief and mopping the bald place 
on his head. 

“ Ef et don’t rain soon, dust ’ll blamed nigh choke 
us.” 

“ Hain’t been nuff for a month t’ lay th’ dust.” 

“ Everybody must be mighty busy ; it ’s gittin’ 
along in th’ evenin’ an’ hain’t been ten people in 
town t’ day.” 

“All busy in th’ harvest, I reckin.” 

“ ’Spect they air.” 

“ Well, that ’ll soon be over, and then I reckin 
we ’ll see somebody.” 

Then Cris Martin took off his hat to scratch his 
head. As he did so a noise from the long bridge 
which spanned the stream southeast of the town 
reached his ears, and looking in that direction, he 
saw two horsemen cross it and come up the hill 
toward them. They looked like plain, unassuming 
farmers, wearing broad-brimmed white hats and 
long linen ulsters. 

“ See them fellers, Enoch ?” asked Cris. 

“Yes.” 

“ But they ride dog on good bosses.” 

“ They do, sure as you’re a foot high.” 

“ Believe they ’re cornin’ this way, too.” 

“ ’Pears like it.” 

“ Wonder who they air ?” 

“ Cattle buyers, hoss buyers, sheep buyers, ur 
suthin’ o’ th’ kind.” 


20 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


Just then Enoch chanced to glance up the street 
north of the town, and declared : 

“ Dog on me, ef thar don’t come two more, Cris.” 

From the north ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ D’ ye knov/ ’em ?” 

“ Never sot eyes on ’em afore, an’ wouldn’t know 
’em from a side o’ sole leather.” 

At this moment Jack Auglin, a third companion, 
came from the store. 

“ D’ ye see them fellers?” he asked, pointing to 
the horsemen. 

“Yes.” 

“ Know ’em ?” 

“ No ; d’ you ?” 

“ Never saw ’em. Wonder who they air?” 

Enoch, who was well informed on all subjects, ex- 
pressed it as his opinion they were sheep buyers. 
The “ hull country ” was full of them. Sim Dodson 
told him that two were at his house the week' 
before. Jack Auglin looked down the street, west, 
and said : 

“ Thar ’s two more.” 

The advent of the six strange horsemen coming 
from different directions was enough to fill the 
three loafers with conjecture and excitement. The 
two men, who had been sitting, rose to their feet. 
Enoch threw away the stick he had been whittling 
and pulled his hat down over his bald head. 

“ Maybe they are cattle buyers,” said Jack Auglin, 
who remembered that he had heard something of 
those men being in the country. 


Mysterio 7 ts Mr> Howard. 21 


Cris Martin was certain they must be horse 
buyers. The neweomers seemed destined to meet 
at a point near the crossing between the store and 
the bank. All six met here, and began to scrape 
up aequaintanee in real old Missouri fashion. 

“ Howdy ?” said the large man on the brown - 
horse to the large man on the bay horse. 

“ Purty well, stranger. How ’s yerself ?” 

“ Fust rate. Buyin’ sheep?” 

No. I 'm buyin’ cattle.” 

“ I ’m after sheep ; thought you mought be in the 
same business. How are eattle, anyway ?” 

“ They ’re holdin’ ’m too high. Thar ’s a little 
bunch down th’ river, but I ean’t touch ’em with a 
ten-foot pole.” 

By this time the three gentlemen of leisure of 
Standish and a dozen more were about the new- 
comers. Any excitement in the village was eagerly 
sought by the loafers. The village, whieh had 
seemed almost depopulated but a short time before, 
was now filled with life, and men and boys eame 
creeping from the houses and shady places to learn 
the cause of that gathering on the eorner. 

Two more strange horsemen had come up and 
joined the others, who were discussing stock mar- 
kets and prices asked by farmers. 

“ I tell ye, stranger,” remarked the man on the 
large brown horse, “ we ean’t do anything as long 
as they hold their stoek at sich priees. A feller up 
th’ river who had a little buneh o’ steers wanted 
four cents on foot. We come away an’ left ’im.” 

“ Purty fine boss ye ride,” sMd the man on the bay. 


Mysteriotis J/r. Howard. 


2 2 


“ Ye hit it that time, stranger. He ’s a mighty 
good hoss.” 

“ How ’ll ye swap ?” 

I dun know.” 

Now this critter hain’t no crowbait.” 

“ No, he ’s a right good-lookin’ annermil.” 

“ Well, if we can’t buy sheep nur cattle, maybe 
we can make a dicker* on a hoss-trade.” 

‘‘ How much boot will ye give ?” 

“ Boot ?” 

‘‘Certainly. Ye don’t think I am goin’ t’ swap 
even ?” returned the man on the dark brown. 

The man on the bay laughed. 

“ Oh, I see ye don’t want to trade.’” 

“ Yes, I do.” 

“ How old is that hoss ?” 

“Five next spring. How old’s yourn?” 

“ The same.” 

Enoch Ralls, who prided himself on his judg- 
ment in horseflesh, nudged Jack Auglin and re- 
marked : 

“That brown hoss is a blamed good un, lemme 
tell ye.” 

“You bet he is,” answered Jack. 

“Both mighty good critters,” thought Cris 
Martin. 

“Yes. but that brown hoss is wuth fifty dollars 
mor n the bay,” declared Enoch Ralls. 

Meanwhile, the two strangers, who had been 
“ talking trade ” all the while, had dismounted, in 
order more carefully to inspect the objects of bar- 

* Some of the "vrords iu this chapter are local to Missouri, hut their 
meauiugs are so clear that defluiiiou is not necessary, 


Mysterious Air. Howard. 


23 


ter. The sun had sunk so low its heat was not 
quite so oppressive, and the inhabitants of Stand- 
ish were venturing to the streets and asking one 
another what that crowd over by the bank was doing. 
Little did they imagine that a bold outrage was 
about to be committed — a crime that would im- 
poverish the little town and ruin scores of its 
people. The large man who owned the brown 
horse went to the bay, opened its mouth, glanced 
at its teeth, and said : 

I ’ll tell ye what I ’ll do. I ’ll take fifty dollars 
to boot.” 

“ Fifty dollars ?” 

‘‘Yes.” 

“ No, ye won’t.” 

“ Then we won’t trade.” 

“ Why, man, yer crazy.” 

“ Good by — ” 

The owner of the dark-brown horse put his foot in 
the stirrup to mount, when the other stranger said : 

“ Hold on— don’t fly off th’ handle that way.” 

“ How much will ye give 

“ Twenty-five.” 

“ No use to talk with you.” 

“ Well, fall a little, won’t ye 

“ I ’ll knock off five dollars.” 

“ Oh, yer away off. I ’ll make it thirty.” 

“ Say, there ’s only fifteen dollars atween ye ; 
can’t ye split the difference?” ventured Enoch. It 
was nothing in the world to him, but having no 
business of his own, he busied himself with other 
people’s affairs. 


24 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


“ Now that ’s sensible. Let ’s split the differ- 
ence ?” suggested the man with the bay. 

It terminated with their coming to an agreement 
of thirty-seven dollars and fifty cents as the price 
between the two horses. 

The owner of the bay began counting out the 
money. Turning to the man with whom he had 
made the deal, he said : 

“ Here ’s a twenty-dollar bill ; kin ye bust it fur 
me?” 

“ No, I can’t,” the owner of the dark brown an- 
swered. 

“ Kin you ?” turning to Enoch. Enoch had not 
been the possessor of half that sum in five years. 
He shook his head solemnly, saying : 

“ I hain’t any small change.” 

Then he turned to the other horsemen, but each 
shook his head in turn, until some one suggested 
that maybe it could be changed in the bank. 

“ Yes, ye can git it changed thar. John Wiseman 
will change it for ye,” put in Enoch Ralls. 

“ Wall, let’s go on an’ do it,” said the owner of 
the dark brown. 

“ Come on.” 

“ Hold our bosses, boys.” 

Two of the strange horsemen took the reins of 
their horses, and as the two men w^alked away to- 
ward the bank, one was heard to remark : 

“ I ’m givin’ you too much.” 

“ No, it ’s me as is takin’ too little.” 

They disappeared in the bank, and Enock took 
his friends around the recent objects of barter, 


My stations Mr. Howard. 


25 


pointing out their good qualities, and elevating 
himself in their estimation as a judge of horseflesh. 
Suddenly there came from the bank angry voices, 
the sharp report of a pistol, a yell of pain and fear 
and some one running from the rear of the build- 
ing, cried : 

“ They are robbing the bank !” 

In an instant a terrible change had come over the 
horsemen in the street. They snatched revolvers 
from under those long, linen ulsters, and, flourish- 
ing them before the crowd that was frozen with 
amazement and dread, shouted : 

“ Git out o’ th’ way ! Run for yer lives !'’ and 
commenced firing at the people so recklessly that 
the crowd took to their heels. Enoch Ralls and 
Jack Auglin wheeled^to fly with the others, ran into 
and tumbled over each other, and one of the horses, 
frightened by the incessant flashes and reports of 
pistols, leaped over them, throwing its rider, who 
fell on Enoch’s back. His wig and false whiskers 
were knocked off in the fall, and Enoch and Jack 
Auglin saw the face of a handsome young man. 

The two men who had gone into the bank to get 
the bill changed came out with all the cash of the 
institution, save thirty-seven cents in pennies, which 
they did not wait to gather up. They carried their 
ill-gotten booty in a bag, which was slung over the 
horn of the saddle on the dark-brown horse. The 
man who had fallen leaped behind one of his com- 
panions, and all galloped away. 

“ I know one on ’em ! I ’d swear t’ one on ’em !” 
cried Enoch. 


26 


Mysterio2ts Mr. Howard. 


“ So would I !” yelled Jack Auglin. 

They ran to the nearest house, from which they 
watched the eight bandits fly down the street, 
across the bridge and disappear in the forest. 


CHAPTER III. 

ARREST OF THE LOVER. 

Life at the old Newburg tavern was dull to 
Flora. The monotonous days dragged slowly by, 
while she sat by her window gazing down the great 
old, disused road, wondering if he would come. 
She cried until it made her eyes red, and then dried 
her tears, for it would be “ awful ” for Horace to 
see her with red eyes. Aunt Rachel tried to con- 
sole her, but the good-natured old lady made so 
many blunders that she gave up in despair, feeling 
sure she had only made matters worse. Mrs. How- 
ard, the newcomer, proved a very quiet little body, 
spending most of her time with her children. One 
seldom saw ber save at the table, and she hardly 
ever left the house, except to take a short stroll 
with her children after the sun had set. 

The little boy, Jesse, who had his father’s steel- 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


27 


blue eyes and clear complexion, was a bright little 
fellow, and made many remarks beyond his age. 

One day. Cater, who had been to Rushville for 
the mail, brought the weekly county paper for 
Uncle Reuben. The old man interested himself in 
it during the afternoon, and when they had gath- 
ered around the tea-table, said : 

“ Thar 's been another awful bank robbery.” 

“ Where was it ?” asked Aunt Rachel. 

At Standish.” 

“ How fur is that from here ?” 

“ ’Bout fifty or sixty miles.” 

“ How was it done ?” inquired the quiet little Mrs. 
Howard. 

“ Th’ papers say ’twas the boldest robbery ever 
known. They went into th’ town in broad day- 
light, an’ took all th’ money from th’ bank, except 
thirty-seven cents.” 

Mrs. Howard asked : 

And have they recovered none of the money nor 
caught the robbers ?” 

“ Not one.” 

“ I don’t see why they don’t catch ’em an’ do 
.somethin’ with ’em,” declared Aunt Rachel. 

“ Yes, catch ’em an’ hang ’em !” put in little Jesse. 

“ There, there, dear ! Remember that little boys 
should be seen and not heard,” said the mother. 

“ But ain’t they bad men, mamma ?” 

“It’s not your place to discuss them.” And a 
smile played over the pale face of the mother as 
she gazed fondly at her boy. 

“ Bet I do, when 1 grow big.” 


28 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


“ Yes, he will,” declared Aunt Rachel, giving the 
lad an admiring glance across the table. “ He ’s 
going to be a big man one day, and bank robbers 
won’t dare to fool around where he is.” 

Mrs. Howard turned to Flora and asked : 

“ How are you going to spend the afternoon ?” 

The pretty, sad face turned to the quiet little 
lady, and in an absent-minded, far-ofE manner, she 
answered : 

“ I don’t know.” 

Are you lonesome in your room ?” 

I know she must be,” interrupted Aunt Rachel. 

I ’m afeerd she ain’t enjoyin’ her visit t’ Newburg 
one bit. She jist sits up thar an’ mopes an’ mopes 
all th’ time.” 

Uncle Reuben, who sometimes rnade a feeble 
effort at a joke, remarked, with a smile on his 
usually glum face : 

Maybe she is in love.” 

A little crimson flush swept over the fair face, 
but it was gone in an instant. Aunt Rachel, 
who had observed it, was quick to rebuke her hus- 
band : 

“You ort t’ be ashamed o’ yerself. Rube, t’ 
plague th’ child that way. Don’t mind him, Flora. 
Yer uncle ’s gittin’ old an’ talks silly ez a child.” 

Flora made no response, and the meal proceeded. 
Mrs. Howard, whose quick eye had discerned that 
Flora’s heart was heavy, whispered in her ear as 
they rose from the table : 

“ Let us take a stroll in the woods this after- 
noon.” 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


29 


I am afraid to go far,” Flora answered, as, with, 
a shudder, she glanced toward the great dark wood. 
“ We might get lost.” 

“ We need not go far,” argued Mrs. Howard. 
There was nothing better for the sad girl, and she 
assented. “ I will let the children play in the back- 
yard, and give Aunt Aggy a quarter to watch them,” 
added Mrs. Howard. 

Aunt Aggy was seen, and consented to look 
after them Chilian jist ez well ez der own mammy 
would.” 

With this assurance the two prepared to set forth 
on their stroll. The afternoon was sultry, and the 
dark shades of the forest were cool and inviting. 
The blue jays and a host of feathered warblers 
were making the wood melodious with song. A 
short, soft grass, which in Missouri loves to carpet 
unfrequented paths, had spread a soft, green cover- 
ing over the one they were to follow. 

“ I think there is no danger of losing our way if 
we follow this path and return by it,” said Mrs. 
Howard. 

“ If we don’t go too far,” answered Flora. 

“We will be careful. Come, let us have a walk 
that will bring back the bloom to your cheek.” As 
they tripped down the path which led to a stream 
half a mile away, Mrs. Howard said : “ Flora, you 
are sad.” 

Flora was silent. 

“ I wish I could aid you, my dear girl,” and she 
turned her soft brown eyes, full of tender sympa- 
thy, on the sorrowing maiden, 


30 Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


“ Mrs. Howard, I know how you feel, and I thank 
you ; but my sorrow is one which friendship can- 
not heal, and it would be presumptuous in me to 
burden a stranger with my afflictions." 

“ Alas, poor girl ! I can read your heart ; and 
though I have never heard your sad story, I almost 
know it. I am not seeking to probe secrets which 
must be precious to you. Though I long to aid you, 
I can only sympathize and hope that this thorn 
may be moved from your flesh in time." 

They reached the stream, a romantic, wild little 
rivulet, with mossy bank and miniature cascade. 
They sat on the bank a long while gazing on the 
sparkling waters forming a tiny rainbow and listen- 
ing to the music which seemed to lull one to re- 
pose. At last Flora fixed her eyes on Mrs. Howard 
and asked : 

“ Have you ever known grief ? " 

“ I have drained the bitter cup to its dregs, my 
dear," answered Mrs. Howard, while her thin lips 
closed tightly. Her eye, which was usually bright, 
seemed dimmed for a moment, then brightened 
again. “Why do you ask. Flora?" 

“ I wonder if sorrow is the lot of every one." 

“ It seems to be so. Flora." 

“ Yet some passthrough the world with no visible 
.shadow." 

“ Ah, child, we can’t see the heart ! Nothing is 
more hypocritical than a smile and an air of cheer- 
fulness. If this veil of deceit could be lifted, how 
few hearts would be found happy ; none absolutely 
so, If it is not one care or grief, it is another," 


Mysterious Mr. Howai^d. 


31 


“ Were you ever surrounded by misery and 
despair so dark that you could see no light be- 
yond, and felt as if you would perish ?” 

“ Frequently, my child.” 

“ And lived ?” 

“ Yes, my child. Grief may long be born ere 
sorrow snaps the brittle thread of life. I have 
learned to wait, hope and pray.” 

Flora turned her face, upon which there was the 
faintest glow, to her companion, and said : 

“ You have spoken two of the sweetest words I 
ever heard — hope and pray. I have prayed, now I 
will hope.” 

Then they sat a long tirne in silence listening to 
the murmur of the waters. The sun was low in the 
western heavens, when the instincts of a mother 
warned the little woman that it was time to go. 

“ Let us return ; it is getting late and the children 
may want me.” 

Flora rose to follow her, when she discovered four 
horsemen coming toward them. They were fierce- 
looking men, with short Winchester rifles hanging 
at their saddles. 

“ Who are they, Mrs. Howard ?” cried Flora, 
timidly clinging to her companion. 

“ Peace, child ! Surely they will not harm us.” 

When they had come within speaking distance, 
one tipped his hat and asked : 

“ Do you ladies live near ?” 

“We are staying at the Newburg tavern, and 
came out for a little stroll.” 

“ Well, don’t be skeered, for we ain’t goin’ to hurt 


32 


Mysterious J/r. Howai'd. 


ye. All we want to know is if ye ’s seed anybody 
since ye left th’ house ?” 

“ No, sir ; no one.” 

Good day !” And the horsemen rode on, disap- 
pearing in the woods. 

“ Mrs. Howard, what do they mean ? Who are 
they ?” 

Mrs. Howard, who was trembling like a leaf, ati- 
swered : 

“ I cannot understand them. Let us return to the 
house.” 

The first person they met on returnipg was old 
Cater, and they related their adventure to him, and 
asked him who these strange armed horsemen 
could be. 

“ Why, bress de Lawd, I dun know !” answered 
Cater. “ Dar am a hull passel o’ men in de woods 
on hossback a-ridin’ about like dey war a-huntin’ 
deah. But ’tain’t time fur the hunters, ’deed 
’tain’t.” 

Aunt Rachel had tea early that evening. The 
sun had not yet dipped behind the western hills, 
though the lengthening shadows told that it was 
low. Flora, who had never been able to get those 
horsemen out of her mind, went to the cow lot to 
watch Aunt Rachel and Aggy milk the cows, hop- 
ing to forget the scene in the woods. A grove of 
beautiful hickory -trees seemed to invite her to their 
sylvan shades, and she strolled to them. The great 
road, or what had once been the great road, was not 
far. She had often gazed down the dim old path, 
and wondered where it led. The brow of the hill 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


was not far away, aiid at the side of the path was a 
large white stump in the shade of a large old oak. 
It was an inviting seat, and some power seemed to 
draw her to it. 

She was scarcely seated on it, when the ring of 
iron-shod hoofs from down the road reached her 
ears, and she saw a horseman coming up the hill. 
Filled with an unknown dread, she turned to fly, 
when a voice called : 

“ Stop, Flora, stop !” 

That voice ! Oh, Heaven, she would know it 
among a thousand. She tried to speak, to shriek 
with joy, but her tongue seemed powerless to utter 
a syllable. The woods swam before her, and had 
she not clung to the f?tump, she would have fallen. 
Next moment a tall, dark, handsome young man 
leaped from his saddle and seized the half-fainting 
girl in his arms, while he whispered : 

“ Look up. Flora, look up ! It is I.” 

She felt his warm breath on her cheek, she heard 
his beloved voice in her ear, and clinging to him as 
if she feared he would vanish into air, she sobbed : 

“ Horace — Horace !” 

“ It is I, love. Are you not glad to see me ?” 

“ Yes, yes ! Heaven only knows how happy I am !” 

Aunt Rachel and Aggy, hearing her cry, started 
and gazed in amazement on the scene. Aunt Ra- 
chel, not understanding the strange affair, and hav- 
ing a vague impression that the stranger was going 
to harm her niece, seized the stick she used to 
beat off the calves, when Aggy seized her arm, and 
whispered : 


34 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


“ Stop, missus, doan ’sturb um. Doan ye see him 
buss her? Dat ’s her lover fellah !” 

By this time the strange^ complicated affair be- 
came more clear to Aunt Rachel, and she dropped 
her calf-stick, though she could not resist the temp- 
tation to cast occasional glances at the lovers, and 
wonder what he was like. Pretty Flora clung to 
him trembling like a captured bird, her tears of joy 
coursing down her pretty cheeks. 

“ Flora, will you forgive me for coming against 
your father’s wish? I must see you occasionally, or 
I shall die,” he whispered in those soft, low tones 
which never failed to thrill her soul. She was 
about to speak, to tell him how freely she forgave 
him, when there was a clatter of horses’ feet, the 
iron shoes scattering the gravel in every direction, 
and the four horsemen who had frightened her at 
the creek galloped up to within a few paces of 
them, and leveling their guns on her lover, cried : 

“Young man, surrender, or we will blow your 
head from your shoulders !” 

For a moment Horace gazed at them in silent 
amazement, then demanded : 

“ What does this mean ?” 

“ Well, we expected that,” said one of the horse- 
men. “ Of course, you plead innocence and ignor- 
ance, but you are our prisoner all the same. We 
were told you would come to this house, and all we 
had to do was to watch it and you would fall in the 
trap.” 

“ Sir !” cried Horace, indignantly. “ I demand 
an explanation.” 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


35 


“ All right ; you can have it,” said the man, dis- . 
mounting. “ I am the sheriff, and have a warrant 
for your arrest. Keep him covered, boys, he is a 
dangerous fellow, and if he makes a move, shoot 
him dead in his tracks !” 

“ For what am I arrested?” he asked.- 

“ You already know, but I don’t mind telling you. 
You were one of the gang who robbed the bank at 
Standish.” 

“ It is false !” 

“Yes, we expected that. Stand aside, young 
lady. We certainly don’t want to harm you, but 
that man is a dangerous Missouri bank-robber, and 
we may have to shoot him,” said the sheriff, draw- 
ing a pair of handcuffs. 

“ Oh, sir, he is innocent ! He is innocent !” be- 
gan Flora, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

“ There — there, Flora, don’t !” pleaded the lover. 
“This is some stupid mistake. Mr. Sheriff, you 
shall suffer for this.” 

“ I will take all the risk. Throw up your hands, 
or you are a dead man !” 

The sheriff was a novice in the business, and de- 
termined not to take any risk. 

“ Flora, don’t be alarmed,” Horace whispered. 

“ This can all be explained — ” 

The officer slipped the handcuffs on his wrists, 
interruptin^him with : 

“ Make your explanations in court, Mr. Rath- 
burne, but you will pass the night in jail.” 

With a shriek. Flora fell in a swoon ; and Aunt 
Rachel, again seizing her stick, and followed by 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


36 


Aggy with a similar one, made a gallant charge to 
the rescue. 

“ Hold on, good woman !” said the sheriff, quietly. 
“We know what we are about. This man is Horace 
Rathburne. He was one of the band who robbed 
the Standish bank the other day. His disguise fell 
off, and two men who know him saw his face and 
will swear it was him. We were told he had a 
sweetheart here, and if we would only watch your 
house we would be sure to catch him.” The sheriff 
then turned to his prisoner, and added : “ Come, 
young man, we’ll tie you on your horse, and be 
going.” 

“ One moment !” he cried. And breaking from 
the man who held him, manacled as he was, he bent 
over the insensible girl, and pressing a burning 
kiss on her clay-cold lips, arose and said: “I am 
ready !” 

He was immediately placed on his horse, and, 
surrounded by the strong guard, hurried away. 
Aunt Rachel, on whose mind the whole terrible 
truth dawned, sank helpless at the roadside, and, 
turning to Aggy, said : 

“ Take her up and carry her t’ th’ house. Poor 
girl ! Oh, Heaven ! it would ha’ been better if she 
had died afore this !” 




Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


37 


CHAPTER IV. 

LUCKLESS ARTHUR WESTFALL. 

It was during one of those financial panics which, 
like throes of agony, periodically convulse the 
country, that Arthur Westfall strayed into Kansas 
City. The day was drawing to a close, and the 
streets of that busy Western town were thronged 
with people, rushing hither and thither. A finan- 
cial crash was pending, and the features of men 
were pale and haggard ; there was despair and 
dread written on every face as they hurried by. 

“ Well, I don’t see that anybody looks much hap- 
pier than I,” remarked Arthur, as he stood on the 
corner and gazed oh the hurrying throng. Despite 
his miserable appearance, there was a reckless air 
about the young man. His face was pinched with 
hunger, his shoes covered with dust, his clothes 
well worn and travel-stained. Arthur had not tasted 
food for four-and-twenty hours. He had come from 
the rural districts, and long trudging on the road 
had not only made his feet sore, but fatigued his 
whole body. Yet there was a reckless humor about 
him as he halted on the street corner, with his 
earthly possessions, two shirts and three collars, 
tied up in a red handkerchief, in his hand. “ This 


38 Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


is a curious world,” he remarked, with a reckless 
laugh. “ I have been twenty-four hours without 
food, slept in barns and haystacks, and yet I am as 
happy as some of these fellows who rush by in silk 
and broadcloth. There is philosophy in misery. 
So long as one is at the bottom, there is no dread of 
falling. It ’s the fear of falling that makes these 
men so uncomfortable. It is the consciousness that 
I have reached the bottom that makes me con- 
tented, even if I am hungry.” 

This reckless young tramp, in whose eye there 
was a dangerous twinkle, three months before oc- 
cupied a good position in Mark Hunt’s dry-goods 
store, in a thrifty Missouri town. He was an orphan. 
His only relative was Mr. George Weatherby, an 
uncle on his mother’s side, who had brought him 
up from infancy. Weatherby had no children of 
his own. He was a Virginian, and had emigrated, 
with his wife and sister’s child, to Missouri at a 
period when Arthur was too young to remember it. 
Arthur was educated at his uncle’s expense, and the 
old farmer, being in straitened circumstances, placed 
the youth in Mark Hunt’s store to earn his own liv- 
ing. All went well for two or three years, when 
money was taken from the till, and circumstances 
at once fastened the crime on Arthur. He and Ab 
Nichols, a fellow-clerk, were the only persons hav- 
ing access to the till, and Ab quickly established 
his innocence. 

Though there was no positive proof against 
Arthur, the suspicions against him were so strong 
that he was discharged. It was said he had lived a 


Mysteriotis Mr, Howard. 


39 


rather gay life, and it was reported that he had 
spent his money before it was earned. At any 
rate, on the day of his discharge he had but a few 
dollars in his pocket. His good name was blighted, 
and he found the story of his crime travelling 
faster than he could. Wherever he applied for a sit- 
uation, the story of the missing money was known, 
and his services were declined. His money was 
nearly gone, he was weary and heart-sick, when he 
went to his uncle’s to stay a few days until he had 
recuperated his strength, but alas ! he was soon to 
learn that the old house was no longer his home. 

“ No, Arthur, ye can’t stop here,” said his uncle, 
who, up to this, time, had been his kindest bene- 
factor. “Ye have disgraced me. I tried t’ raise ye 
up in th’ way ye should go, but ye departed there- 
from ; so go ! I won’t harbor a thief !” 

“ Surely, uncle,” said the stupefied Arthur, “ you 
do not believe that absurd story ?” 

“ Why not ? Th’ proof ’s agin ye.” 

“ I know circumstances are against me, uncle, but 
I swear to you that I am innocent.” 

“Ye needn’t do it, Arthur. Don’t add perjury t’ 
yer other crimes. All I ask is fur ye t’ go so fur 
away I ’ll never see nur hear o’ ye agin.” 

Those cruel words sank so deep into the proud 
soul of Arthur that he answered : 

“ I will do it. Uncle George. Yes, I will never 
bother you again. Farewell !” 

With a heart heavier than lead, he walked slowly 
down the grass-grown path to the gate which 
opened into the big road, hoping his uncle would 


40 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


relent and call him back. But he did not, and 
Arthur again resumed his weary tramp in search of 
means to feed and clothe his body. He might have 
forgiven the cruelty of his uncle George, had he 
not -found the suddenly-acquired hatred of that 
relative following him wherever he went. George 
Weatherby seemed to take vSpecial pains to warn 
people against employing him, and in his desperate 
circumstances the young man parted with his 
worldly effects, one by one, until we find him in 
Kansas City without a penny in his pocket, tired 
and hungry. 

“What is a fellow to do ?” he thought, as he 
gazed up and down the street. “ If I sit on a door- 
step a moment to rest, I am driven away. If I beg, 
they say : Why don’t you work? If I ask for work, 
my past is inquired into, and I am told to go on.” 

He hungrily gazed into the show window of a 
baker’s shop, where bread, cakes and pies were 
temptingly arranged. Might he not, like Jean 
Val jean, smash one of those windows, snatch a loaf 
of bread and hasten away ? True, Jean Valjean 
paid the penalty by a life service in the galleys, but 
in prison he would be fed, and that was better 
than starving in the streets. He was about to put 
his plan into execution, when a little farther on a 
restaurant caught his eye, and a new plan sug- 
gested itself. 

“ No, I’ll work the restaurant,” he declared with 
a reckless laugh. “I will have at least one more 
good meal.” With an improvised boldness foreign 
to his nature, but well assumed, he walked into the 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


41 


restaurant, fragrant with food and jingling with 
dishes, while the waiters were hurrying from table 
to table, serving the hungry customers. 

As coolly as if his pocket was filled with ready 
cash, the tramp walked leisurely in and seated him- 
self by one of the small tables on the left, which 
he found unoccupied. A newspaper lay on the 
table, and he picked it up and glanced over the 
pages in a careless manner, which threw the wait- 
ers off their guard. When one of them came for 
his order, he gave it with coolness, taking care to 
select the best and most nutritious food. 

“ If I am to be kicked out, it shall be on a full 
stomach,” he thought, while a grim smile played 
over his face. 

He called for roast beef and turkey, bread, 
cheese and delicacies. The waiter laid down his 
ticket, and picked it up again half a dozen times, 
each time increasing its denomination. He ordered 
baked apple dumplings, dry sauce and peach cob- 
bler, paying no attention to the increasing valua- 
tion of his ticket, although he reasoned that the 
kicks might be increased in proportion to its 
value. 

When he had eaten all he could eat, and washed 
it down with a refreshing cup of coffee, he again 
picked up the paper and pretended to be very 
much interested. The waiter, with folded arms, 
stood waiting to clear away the table for some one 
else, and the cashier, whose counter was near the 
door, seemed growing impatient. Still he was in no 
hurry. He glanced at the ticket lying at his elbow 


42 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


and saw that it called for one dollar and ninety- 
five cents. One hundred and ninety-five dollars 
would have been no more appalling to him at that 
moment. 

He became interested in a cyclone story that 
was in the paper, read it through, then turned it 
over to see what was on the other side. It soon 
became apparent that the restaurant people were 
growing restless. 

“ It ’s got to come some time,” he thought, “and 
I had just as well go up and have it over with.” 

The front door was ajar, and he wished himself 
well out on the street. How ardently he wished 
there would be a fire, fight, sudden riot, or some- 
thing to give him an excuse to rush out and make 
his way off. But everything was distressingly 
quiet, and he could not get it out of his head that 
the restaurant people were not watching to see that 
he did not make his escape. He took great interest 
in that paper, which, on examining the date of 
issue, was over a week old. He turned it over and 
over again, until he had well-nigh worn it out. At 
last he threw it down, yawned carelessly, and rising, 
put up his hand and took his dust-covered hat from 
the rack. He had paid no attention to the people 
who had been coming in and going out while he was 
eating. There were few in the dining-hall now, 
and he wished there were none, for he had not 
sunk so low as to be careless about others witness- 
ing his degradation. He sauntered up to the cashier, 
took a wooden toothpick from the glass case, and in 
a careless, off-hand manner, said : 


Mysteriotis Mr, Howard. 


43 


“ 1 am ready/’ 

“ Ready ?” asked the astounded cashier. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Ready for what ?” He was a large, burly fel- 
low, with a heavy foot. 

“ To be kicked out.” 

“ Are you a fool ?” 

“ No. I have no money to pay you. I was starv- ' 
ing and resorted to — ” 

“ What t You rascal!” roared the angry man. 
Then giving vent to language highly tinctured with 
brimstone, he set forth Arthur in. a manner calcu- 
lated to lower the dignity of even a common 
tramp, and started around to “ mop the floor ” with 
him. Arthur had overestimated his strength. He 
supposed he could tamely submit to being kicked 
out ; but wounded pride could not endure those 
words, if it might the kicks, so he began to square 
away at the cashier, when a tall, fine-looking 
stranger rose from one of the nearest tables, and 
coming on the scene calmly asked : 

“ What is the matter ?” 

This dead-beat came into my restaurant, an’ 
after eatin’ enuff fur three men, won’t pay me,” 
exclaimed the enraged cashier. 

“ I can’t pay; I have no money,” explained the 
young man. 

The tall stranger fixed his steel-blue eyes on the 
young man, and said : 

“ Don’t be too harsh with him, sir ; I read honesty 
in that young man’s face. He may be in hard luck 
and actually suffering.” 


44 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


“ But must I lose my dinner?” roared the infuri- 
ated cashier, showing more indications of belliger- 
ence. 

“ How much is the amount?” 

“There is his ticket,” cried the cashier, picking 
up Arthur’s ticket and holding it before the stran- 
ger. “Just look at it. It ’s a dollar and ninty-five 
cents, and I ’m not goin’ to lose my money.” 

“ Giving him a thrashing, which you may not 
be even able to do, will not get your money.” 

“ No, but it ’ll ease my conscience.” 

“ Here is your pay,” said the stranger, throwing 
down a two-dollar bill. “ Give me the change.” 

The proprietor, somewhat mollified, turned to his 
money-drawer and handed him a nickel. 

Standing near, humiliated and cowed, was Arthur 
Westfall. His pride was crushed. • He knew that 
all eyes were on him, and that he was regarded 
either as an object of charity or a thief. The first 
was worse to him than the last. 

“ Now, young man, come with me,” said the 
stranger who had settled his bill. 

He followed him without hesitation, never even 
asking him where he was going, or for what pur- 
pose. There were no business engagements to con- 
sume his time, so he thought he could as well go 
with him as not. 

It was dark when they emerged on the street. 
The tall man wore a broad-brimmed hat, which 
was inclined to slouch over his eyes. His dark- 
brown whiskers were neatly trimmed, and he had 
all the appearance of a business gentleman. His 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


45 


clcthc*^ were neat and clean and his manner quiet, 
while the only nervousness observable was a con- 
tinual restless movement of his eyes. 

Arthur Westfall paid no attention to the course 
they took. He was only half conscious of dark 
alleys and low drinking dens, then of a narrow pas- 
sage, a crowded stairway, and finally of being ush- 
ered into a small, dingy room, lighted by a solitary 
"candle. The door was locked, and his companion, 
pointing to a plain stool-bottom chair, bade him be 
seated, while he settled himself in a half-reclining 
position on the bed. 

“ What is your name ?” was his first question. 

“ Arthur Westfall, sir.” 

“ I believe I have heard of you before,” said the 
stranger. “You were in the employ of the mer- 
chant, Mr. Hunt — ” 

“ Yes, sir. I see it all now. You are a detective, 
and have been shadowing me.” 

“ You are mistaken ; I am nothing of the sort.” 

“ Then, perhaps, an officer. I will surrender, but 
as Heaven is my witness, I never took the money 
from the till.” 

“I have nothing to do with that,” the stranger 
declared, his eyes nervously roving about the 
room. “ It makes no difference whether you robbed 
Hunt or not, the world will have it you did.” 

“ The world is wrong.” 

“ No doubt. But one thing is certain, Arthur — 
you can never follow any peaceful calling.” 

“ No, no !” he sighed. “ Society has set its ban 
on me ! I am ruined !” 


46 MysteriotLS M 7 \ Howard. 


He bowed his head in his hands, and a tear stole 
down his cheek. The stranger did not like this 
omen. Tears were not what he wanted. He waited 
a few moments for him to recover, then began 
pointing out the wrongs of society, showing him 
how often it happened that the guilty were most 
prosperous and the innocent suffered. He argued 
that as the worm turned and stung the foot that 
crushed it, so might man turn on society. He said 
there were men who had done so, whose names 
went down in history as heroes. Two conspicuous 
characters were Robin Hood and Rob Roy, whose 
praises were sounded by poet and historian until 
their names had become household words. They 
were only ordinary men, whom society in that da}^ 
called outlaws. They had been wronged and 
struck back. 

“ I have my wrongs,” continued the stranger, in 
a sad tone. “ Society, for no other reason than that 
1 was loyal to my convictions, set its seal of con- 
demnation on me, so that I can no more live 
peacefully in the world than you. That you are 
innocent of the offense does not lighten the charge 
or the punishment. No, they will set the dogs of 
the law on your trail, and they will hound you to 
death, unless — ” 

He paused to see what effect his words were 
having. His hearer was deeply interested, and, 
taking hope, he went on to tell how he had suffered 
persecution until, unable to follow any honorable 
calling, he had been driven to offenses which the 
laws condemned. If one could not be permitted to 


Mysterious Air. Howard. 


47 


work for food and clothes, one must get food and 
clothes in some other way. In short, he wound up 
his harangue by saying he belonged to a band of 
choice spirits who rode excellent horses, had plenty 
of money and exciting adventures — a band of jolly, 
cavalier-like sort of free rovers, who sometimes 
levied toll on the road. Society had driven them 
to this, and society must take the consequences. He 
pictured the life in glowing colors, which to an ad- 
venturous spirit like Arthur’s, and especially one 
in his desperate circumstances, was pleasing. There 
would be no more tramping, no more starvation or 
abuse, but money and good clothes in abundance. 
Would he unite his destiny with theirs and enjoy 
this plenty, or did he prefer starvation and curses? 

“ What is your name?” asked Arthur, calmly. 

“Jackson — T. J. Jackson.” 

“ Mr. Jackson, I am in desperate straits. The 
world, like the boasted charity of society itself, has 
turned its back on me. It seems I must follow your 
example or starve. In short, I am your man, and 
if this career brings me to the gallows, it cannot 
end a miserable existence too soon.” 

They held a long consultation in a lower tone, 
then went out together. 


48 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


CHAPTER V. 

MR. MEEKER REJECTED. 

The quaint old Missouri town of Starkeville, 
which still retained some of its ante-bellu7n wealth 
and splendor, was suddenly roused from its usual 
midsummer lethargy by the announcement of a 
brilliant social event, which for weeks was the 
“ town talk.” This event was the Hawley ball. 

Gen. Frederick Hawley, the rich banker, was one 
of the wealthiest and most influential citizens of 
Missouri. He had represented his State two terms 
in the national assembly, and was “ strongly talked 
of ” for governor ; but having no political aspira- 
tions, be declined the honor, and devoted his time 
to his large and increasing business. 

The eighteenth birthday of Grace Hawley, the 
only child of the General, came in midsummer, and 
that event was to be appropriately celebrated by a 
ball at the General’s mansion. 

Society in Starkeville had been on the tiptoe of 
expectation for weeks. The evening of the great 
Hawley ball, about which everybody had been in 
such a flutter, came. To a person passing the 
Hawley mansion at nine o’clock in the evening 
there appeared no indications of the unequaled 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


49 


scene of grandeur and gayety which was to follow 
a few hours later, other than the long canopy which 
led from the curbstone up the white, pebbled walk 
to the vestibule doors. Not a window of the house 
was illuminated, nor had the lamps in the canopy 
been lighted to drive away the gloom. Everything 
was silent and as dark as though the mansion had 
been locked up for the night and its occupants all 
asleep. 

Presently, however, a light appeared through a 
heavily-curtained window here and there, and as a 
colored servant in livery opened the vestibule to 
prepare the canopy lamps, a flood of light leaped 
out of the door, dispelling the idea that sleep had 
been thought of by the inhabitants within. As the 
hour grew late, there were indications of final 
preparations for the festivities which even the most 
ignorant of the passing pedestrians became con- 
vinced would ensue. Servants were running 
hither and thither, there was great bustle and ex- 
citement, and finally the director of the social event 
took his place on the curbstone to await the first 
carriage. He had not long to wait before it rolled 
up, and then guests began to arrive. 

One might ask where so much grandeur and 
splendor had come from. The old Missouri town 
seemed at once transformed into a gay and fashion- 
able metropolis. There were Congressmen, Sena- 
tors, legislators, judges of courts, bankers, and 
wealth and beauty. Ladies, both young, middle- 
aged and old, pretty, common and homely, but all 
richly attired, with diamonds glistening at their 


50 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


ears and throats, and with fleecy wraps thrown over 
their shoulders, tripped along the carpeted pave- 
ment, accompanied their escorts to the vestibule 
door. 

After the guests had passed through the main 
hall, which was lined with palms and other grow- 
ing plants, and had put aside the light wraps, they 
were ushered into the drawing-room, where they 
were received by General and Mrs. Hawley and 
their beautiful daughter, whose dark eyes far out- 
shone any diamond or brilliant that night. Her 
costume, made for the occasion, was a marvelous 
combination of satin and brocade, made with a 
train, square neck, and trimmed with point lace. 
Her ornaments were diamonds, and consisted of 
necklace, with pendant earrings, bracelets and pins, 
while a tiara of the same gems was worn in the 
coiffure, holding in place a cluster of ostrich tips. 

She was the queen of the evening. Her dark hair 
and eyes were brilliant ; she was vivacious, piquant 
and charming. 

“ Isn’t she pretty ?” 

“ Oh, how lovely !” 

Wealthy, beautiful and admired by all, how could 
Grace Hawley help being happy ? She seemed to 
lack nothing that goes to make up human happi- 
ness. She was brilliant, merry, light-hearted, and 
with it all so gentle and kind that all who knew her 
loved her. 

A young lady occupying the position of Miss 
Hawley could not lack for suitors. Some thought 
that a young Congressman was the favored one ; 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


51 


others said it was the Governor’s son, while there 
was a whisper that her lover was a young lieuten- 
ant in the army. At any rate, Lieutenant Helm was 
present this evening. But those who knew the 
young lady best, declared she was engaged to Cal- 
vin Meeker, her father’s cashier. 

Mr. Meeker was twenty-seven years of age, a tall, 
handsome fellow, with steel-blue eyes and dark- 
brown beard, closely trimmed. He was an ambi- 
tious man, but was regarded by all who knew him 
as a careful, competent business man, honored and 
respected by all. 

The drawing-room had been converted into a 
dancing-hall, and Lieutenant Helm, with the fair 
Grace, led in the german. Mr. Meeker, however, 
claimed the honor of her hand in the lancers. 
That the Lieutenant and Mr. Meeker regarded 
each other as rivals, none who saw them doubted. 
Meeker was persistent, and never lost an oppor- 
tunity to whisper some pretty compliments in her 
ear. 

Fred Barton and his affianced, Dora Hall, who 
were watching the trio, retired to a large bay win- 
dow to discuss the probable chances of each. 

“ She likes the Lieutenant best,” said Dora. 

“ No, the cashier is the man,” returned Fred. 

“ How do you know, Fred ?” Dora asked, giving 
her lover a sly glance from the corner of her large 
gray eyes. 

“ I have noticed her manner.” 

“Her manner? Why, you men know nothing 
about girls.*’ 


52 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


“ Yes, we do. There is no girl who can conceal 
her preference. You may talk about art and de- 
ception as much as you will, but when a girl likes a 
fellow she is going to show it some way, you may 
depend on that.” 

“ Now, you lords of creation imagine you know 
everything,” said the fair Dora, with a pretty little 
pout, “ but you don’t.” 

“Well, Dora, we will not quarrel about it,” re- 
turned P'red. “ They are making up a cotillion ; 
let us have a place in it.” And Dora took his arm 
and they hurried away. 

The truth was, Grace did not care a fig for any of 
her admirers, beyond personal friendship. Her 
heart had never been touched by a gentler emotion 
than a general liking for all acquaintances. 

Mr. Calvin Meeker, with his tall form, his steel- 
blue eyes and dark brown beard, was an imposing 
personage, and one who might claim the admiration 
of any one. While he was not wealthy, his quali- 
fications and position were enviable. He was the 
trusted friend and financial adviser of the General, 
was not known to have any vicious habits, and 
there were many more impossible things in the 
world than that he should win the hand of the 
banker’s daughter. 

But his manners, charming as he might be to 
others, lacked that quality of earnestness so essen- 
tial to winning the heart of a sensible girl like 
Grace. We do not mean that he was not earnest in 
his devotion and desire to win her, yet to her clear 
common sense there was a mercenary motive back 


Mysterious J/r. Howa7'd, 


53 


of it all which surmounted any tender emotion he 
might entertain. 

Any other girl would possibly have been de- 
ceived, but Grace Hawley was no ordinary person, 
and read people’s hearts as the open pages of a 
book. In analyzing her suitors she said : 

“There is Mr. Ravencroft ” — the young Congress- 
man ; “ he is too ambitious to make a good husband. 
I don’t want a man who will devote his entire time 
to politics ; besides, Mr. Ravencroft’s political suc- 
cess has spoiled him. He is not the great states- 
mian he imagines himself. The Governor’s son,” 
she continued, “ dances well, rides well, is a gay 
companion and a society swell, but his head is too 
shallow to choose for a companion for life. Lieu- 
tenant Helm is good enough in his way, but not 
one to captivate me. I don’t want a husband who 
has spent his life studying the science of killing 
and destroying ; besides, who would want to spend 
her life cooped up in some barracks or frontier 
post ? And as for Meeker, he is looking for a wife 
with millions. I would not suit him, nor he me.” 

On this occasion Mr. Meeker was more attentive 
than usual to Grace. He had lively competition, 
and was constantly at his wits’ end to head off his 
three rivals, who were all on the ground. 

At the close of a most entrancing waltz, and just 
as the last strains of the delicious music were dying 
away, he saw the Governor’s son start toward his 
fair companion. 

“ You are fatigued, Miss Hawley,” he whispered. 
“ The room is oppressively close. Let me conduct 


54 


Alysterious Mr, Howard. 


you to the conservatory, where you can rest and 
have fresh air.” 

“ I am not tired ; indeed I am not.” 

“You must be — come !” and he gently coerced 
her from the dancing hall. They were soon in the 
great conservatory, which was arrayed with almost 
oriental splendor. They were alone, and, having 
seated his fair companion, Mr. Meeker said : 

“ Miss Hawley, this has been the most enjoyable 
period of my life—” 

“ Mr. Meeker, will you please get my fan ? It is 
so warm, and I believe I do feel a Jittle faint.” 

“ Certainly ; let me bring you some refreshments 
— a glass of wine — ” 

“ No, ice water will answer, thank you.” 

He hastened to obey. The fan was found in the 
dancing hall, and a negro servant came with a 
pitcher of ice water. 

“That will do, Philip; you can go now,” said Mr. 
Meeker to the servant, when Grace had sipped a_ 
cool, sparkling draught. 

“ The evening is very warm, Mr. Meeker.” 

“ It has been so delightful that I scarcely noticed 
it.” 

“ I have suffered little inconvenience myself, but 
I fear that some of my friends are dancing too 
much.” 

“ Miss Hawley, I want to say something to 
you.” 

“ Oh, excuse me, Mr. Meeker, I must really return 
to my guests.” 

“ No, your mother can perform the duties of host- 


Mysterious Mr*. Hoivarci. 


55 


ess for a few moments. Let me have a word or 
two with you.” 

She intuitively felt what was coming. She had 
known for some time that she must sooner or later 
submit to this ordeal ; but, with natural human in- 
stinct, had put it off as long as possible. In an un- 
guarded moment she had allowed herself to be 
lured into the conservatory, and now saw no safe 
retreat. 

“ Miss Hawley, what I have to say you must have 
conjectured long ere this — ” 

“ Mr. Meeker, you really astonish me.” 

“ Then pardon the abruptness of a plain business 
man. I love you, and ask you to become my wife.” 

She stared at him for a moment, while he fixed 
his steel-blue eyes on hers, and made an effort to 
take her hand. She gently withdrew it, saying : 

“ Pardon me, Mr. Meeker, if I have ever, by word 
or act, given you reason to hope that I looked on 
you in the light of a suitor. As my father’s trusted 
companion in business, you could not be other 
than a friend, but, Mr. Meeker, I do not, cannot love 
you sufficiently to become your wife.” 

Mr. Meeker was stunned by this sudden rejection. 
He had played s<^ long for this, had cut his cards 
and shaped them so nicely, that he felt certain ; but 
now that Miss Hawley, the princely prize he had so 
long coveted and planned with such consummate 
skill to capture, coolly rejected his offer, he was 
stupefied. The very coolness of her manner was 
blighting to his hopes, for it told him she was in 
earnest. 


56 


Mysterious^ Mr. Howard. 


“ Miss Hawley — Grace — pray reconsider this mat- 
ter. It is vital — ” 

“ Mr. Meeker, it is unnecessary,” she interrupted, 
with chilly firmness. ‘‘ It is but justice to you to 
inform you at the beginning that, while I shall 
respect you as my father’s friend, I can never love 
you sufficiently to be your wife.” 

Let me implore you not to act hastily. Take 
.time to consider. Oh, Heaven, give me some hope ! 
I will wait any length of time if you will only give 
some ground for hope.” 

“ That would be an injury to you, Mr. Meeker. I 
am no coquette, as you know, and have no pleasure 
in making others miserable. I can never be your 
wife, and to hold out even the faintest hope would 
be wicked.” 

She rose to return to the dancing hall, from which 
the sweetest strains of music were floating, but he 
passionately caught her hand a moment in his own, 
while his eyes flashed with a strange fire. 

“Wait — wait just a moment, Grace. Pardon me 
if I seem rude, but it is hard thus to give up the 
light of my life, my hope and only joy. If what I 
ask seems foolish, unreasonable or impertinent, for- 
give me, and believe it is prompted by a heart that 
beats for you alone.” 

“ Mr. Meeker, take your arm away.” 

He had tried to entwine his arm about her waist 
to stay her. 

“ Listen to me, won’t you ?” 

“ Yes, but at a distance. You forget your- 
self.” 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


57 


Abashed and humiliated, he muttered some apol- 
ogy and concluded with : 

“ Pardon me if I cling to any shadow of hope, 
and if I ask questions which, under any other cir- 
cumstances, might be impertinent. Do you love 
another ?” 

“ Though your question is highly improper, I 
have no hesitancy in answering. I love no man 
sufficiently to be his wife. I feel that I am scarcely 
more than a child, and am not ready to yield my 
liberties as a maiden for the fetters of matrimon3^ 
Excuse me, but I must return.” 

He conducted her back to the ball-room, with 
features carefully schooled to conceal the storm 
that was ranging within his breast. It was only 
when alone that he gave vent to his rage and disap- 
pointment. 

“ I have played too long for this to be foiled 
now,” he declared. “ Heavens ! I must win her, or 
disgrace, ruin and perhaps the prison yawn for 


58 


Mysterious Howard. 


CHAPTER VI. 

LOVE AND PRISON BARS. 

When Flora Wells regained consciousness, she 
was lying on her bed, in the room set apart for her 
in her uncle’s house, and Aunt Rachel, with tears 
streaming down her cheeks, was bending over her, 
while at her side was the ever faithful Aggy, 
camphor bottle in hand. The face of the old 
negress was strangely comical in its grief. In the 
background were the pale yet calm Mrs. Howard 
and Uncle Reuben, both silent, grieved and 
thoughtful. 

“ Where is he ?” asked the unfortunate girl, try- 
ing to sit up in bed. 

“ There, now, dear, don’t !” said Aunt Rachel. 
“ Here, lemme hold the camfire t’ yer nose.” 

“ No, no ; let me have air. That makes me sick.’ 

“ Open the window,” suggested Mrs. Howard. 

“ Aggy, why don’t ye raise th’ winder ? Rube, 
why d’ ye stand there like a wooden man, when ye 
see th’ pore child is dyin’ fur lack o’ air !” 

Uncle Reuben started slowly toward the window. 
He did everything in a slow, methodical manner. 
Aggy started to do the same thing, but before 
either reached it, the ever thoughtful Mrs. Howard 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


59 


sprang forward and threw it up, letting in the fresh 
air. 

“ Where is he ? Take the camphor from my face, 
Aunt Rachel. Let me have fresh air. Where is he ?” 

Uncle Reuben and his wife exchanged glances, 
and Aunt Rachel took occasion to go below for a 
pitcher of fresh water. She beckoned her husband 
to come after her. Uncle Reuben was slow to com- 
prehend, and still slower to act, but at last, after 
many winks and blinks, nods and motions, she got 
him to the hall. 

“ Rube, what shall we do ?” she asked. 

Uncle Reuben passed his fingers through his 
shaggy, iron-gray locks, and answered : 

“ I dun know.” 

“ She will have to know it some time.” 

“ Know what ?” he asked. 

“ Know he was taken t’ jail.” 

“ Who was taken t’ jail ?” 

“ Oh, Rube, how stupid ye are! Didn’t ye see 
the sheriff come an’ arrest her feller down under 
th’ hill by th’ big stump where she fainted ?” 

Uncle Reuben, who had missed the interesting 
dramatic incident down by the “ big stump,” was 
greatly in the dark. He asked his wife what it was 
all about, and what it all meant, and what the big 
stump had to do with it. 

Aggy an’ I were milkin’ th’ cows,” she ex- 
plained, “ when we heerd a noise down by th’ big 
stump, an’ lookin’ down there, saw this feller — ” 

“ What feller ?” 

“ Her feller, I guess, I don’t know, only she 


6o 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


called him Horace. He rid up, got down, an’ they 
were a-huggin’ an’ kissin’, when up comes some 
men with guns an’ arrested him fur bein’ one o’ 
th’ robbers that robbed th’ Standish bank. Said 
th’ proof was dead ag’in him, as they had two wit- 
nesses as knowed him an’ would swear he did it. 
She fainted, an’ they took him away.” 

Uncle Reuben thoughtfully passed his fingers 
through his locks once more and said : 

“Well, Rachel, I reckon ye better tell her all 
about it. She ’s got t’ know it some time. Might 
as well now as never.” 

“ Now that’s just what I say, Rube. She ’s got t’ 
know it, an’ there hain’t no use in keepin’ it away 
from her.” 

Uncle Reuben grunted assent, and Aunt Rachel, 
who had forgotten her errand, went back into the 
room where Flora was sitting upright in the bed, 
asking Mrs. Howard : 

“ Where is he ? What did they do with him ?” 

“ I don’t know, dear,” that pale, patient lady an- 
swered. “ I don’t know to whom you refer.” 

“ Horace — Horace Rathburne. 1 remember now 
they were going to shoot him. They called him a 
bank-robber.” 

“ But they didn’t hurt him. Flora. I saw it all,” 
declared Aunt Rachel, coming into the apartment 
at this moment. 

“Aunt Rachel, what does it all mean ?” shrieked 
the unfortunate girl, flinging her arms about the 
good old woman and bursting into a fresh flood of 
grief. 


Mysterious Mr, Hoivardi 


6i 


“ I don’t know, child ; I declare I don’t know !” 
sobbed Aunt Rachel, pressing the poor child close 
to her breast. After a few moments Flora became 
more quiet, and, sitting in a chair, asked : 

“ Did they take him away?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Who were they ?” 

“ Th’ sheriff an’ his men.” 

“ Didn’t they say he had helped rob the bank?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ But, Aunt Rachel, it is false.” 

“ I don’t know, child !” sobbed the good woman. 

“ I do know. Oh, if you knew Horace, knew how 
noble, honorable, good and brave he is, you would 
know he is innocent !” 

“ Yes, yes, child ; of course he is. It ’s all a mis- 
take — it ’s all a mistake.” 

Uncle Reuben, who stood at the door, an inter- 
ested spectator, beckoned his wife to come to him. 
She did, and he led the way down to their room. 

“ Rachel, tell me about it,” he said. She told 
him all she knew and what she surmised, and Uncle 
Reuben quietly adjusted his glasses and, drawing 
his chair up to the table, on which was a lamp, 
pored over the columns of his paper for five minutes 
in silence. At last he folded the paper, laid it down, 
removed his glasses, and, fixing his eyes on his wife, 
said : “ Rachel, I tell ye it ’s so. ” 

What ’s so. Rube ?” 

“ That feller o’ Flora’s is a grand rascal, an’ 
they ’ve got th’ right man.” 

“ How d’ you know anything about it?” 


62 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


“ I Ve just been readin’ of it in th’ paper. It says 
two men, Enoch Ralls an’ Jack Auglin, knowed th’ 
man whose disguise fell off in th’ fight.” 

“ Did they say ’twas Horace Rathburne ?” 

“ Been fool t’ said that afore they cotched him,” 
returned Uncle Reuben. “No, didn’t say who 
’twas.” 

Aunt Rachel had to give it up. Her sympathies 
were with the unfortunate girl, and she tried hard 
to believe he was innocent for her sake. She stole 
quietly to her room. Flora sat weeping at the 
window. 

“Poor child! D’ ye want me t’ come in?” she 
asked. 

“ Come in. Aunt Rachel, if you want to.” 

Aunt Rachel went in, and taking a seat at her 
side, placed her arm about her, and for a long time 
they sat in silence. At last the good woman asked : 

“ Do you want me t’ send fur yer ma?” 

“ No.” 

“ Nor yer pa?” 

“Send for no one.” 

“ Why?” 

“My grief is such that parents cannot heal it. 
The love of mother and father would only be 
misery. They hate Horace, because I — I love him. 
They will say he is guilty, while I know he is in- 
nocent. Oh, Aunt Rachel, I am so unhappy 1” and 
she buried her face in the bosom of the good woman 
and sobbed long and bitterly. Aunt Rachel mingled 
her tears with hers, and for a long time they sat in 
darkness and silence. 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


63 


Uncle Reuben sat on the porch below, as he had 
sat for so many years, waiting for a return of cus- 
tom to his tavern, which never came. He sighed, 
and was about to retire for the night, when he heard 
the sound of horses’ feet coming from down the 
road. At first he thought he was dreaming, and 
started up to thrust his hand in his pocket for to- 
bacco to light his pipe, when he saw a horseman 
ride up to the gate. 

Wrapped in each other’s embrace. Aunt Rachel 
and Flora were gazing out into the darkness, when 
the dark outlines of the horseman were seen. Flora 
started up, saying': 

“ There — there ! They have killed him, and are 
coming to tell me !” 

“ No, dear, it is Mr. Howard.” 

Uncle Reuben rose and went to the gate. 

Good evening,” said Mr. Howard, in his pleasant 
voice. 

‘‘ Ye want yer hoss put up, don’t ye ?” asked 
Uncle Reuben. 

“No. I can stay but a moment. I will tie him here, 
run up and see my wife and children, and then go.” 

“ What ! Ain’t ye goin’ t’ stay all night ?” 

“ I cannot,” the strange man answered ; and 
bounding up the stairs to his wife’s room, he entered 
it and closed the door. 

“ Dat am mighty mysterious,” muttered old Cater, 
shaking his head. 

Uncle Reuben growled : 

“ Well, if he likes the saddle better ’n my beds, 
■jist let him go, that’s all.” 


64 


Mysterious Mr, Howard, 


Flora heard Mr. Howard enter the house and 
with a firm, light step hasten to his wife’s room. 
She clung closer to Aunt Rachel and whispered : 

“ Maybe he has heard something of him. Let me 
go and ask.” 

“Wait, child. If he has, Missus Howard ’ll tell 
us.” 

Mr. Howard remained with his wife for nearly 
half an hour. Then the two emerged from her 
room and walked to the gate. 

“ Thomas, can you tell me when you ’ll come 
back ?” she asked. 

“ No. I may drop in at any ifioment.” 

He untied his horse and walked down the road, 
she accompanying him a short distance. Cater, who 
had given the horse a close inspection, approached 
Uncle Reuben in a mysterious manner, and said : 

“ Golly, dat boss hab been a-doin’ a heap of hard 
trabellin’ lately, lemme tell ye.” 

Uncle Reuben made no response, but quietly 
smoked his pipe, while Mrs. Howard and her hus- 
band strolled down the road, conversing in strange, 
hushed tones. It was an hour before the quiet 
little lady returned. She paused a moment at 
Flora’s door to ask her how she “ was feeling.” 

“ Won’t you come in, Mrs. Howard ?” asked the 
girl. 

“ I will sit with you awhile if you wish it.” 

“I do.” 

“ Let me look after the children first.” 

She went to her room and glanced at the chubby 
little children sleeping so peacefully, and carefully 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


65 


tucking them in, kissed them and went to Flora’s 
room. 

“ Mr. Howard made a short visit,” said Flora. 

“Yes. He was passing and thought he would 
call,” returned Mrs. Howard. 

“ He is away very much.” 

“At times. Then, when business permits, he 
stays at home for months at a time.” 

“ It must be a great comfort when he is home.” 

“Those are my happiest moments. They are the 
only moments when I am happy,” she answered. 

“ Mrs. Howard, does he know anything of Horace, 
or why he was arrested ?” 

“ He knew' nothing until I told him.” 

“ What does^he think they will do with him ?” 

“ My dear child, he knows nothing about it. He 
never heard of Horace before. But, as no one was 
killed in the robbery, the most they can do is to im- 
prison him, unless — ” she paused, gasped for breath, 
-and bit her lip in anger for having uttered the last 
word. 

“ Unless what?” 

“ Unless the Vigilantes — ” 

“ He is innocent, Mrs. Howard. I would stake 
my life on his innocence, but those terrible Vigi- 
lantes might not stop to inquire if he was guilty or 
innocent.” 

“ Let us hope that no rash act will be committed. 
Tell me all about your lover. How long have you 
known him ?” 

“ For three years ; ever since he came to Missouri. 
My father used to think him his most valuable 


66 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


salesman, until he asked his daughter’s hand, and 
then he became enraged and drove him from the 
store.” 

“ Have you heard from him since ?” 

“ Once.” 

“ Where was he then ?” 

“ Wandering about seeking a location, and find- 
ing none. But his letters were full of hope and 
love.” 

“Cheer up, my dear, and try to hope for the 
best.” 

“ Mrs. Howard, I must see him.” 

For several moments the quiet little lady sat gaz- 
ing on the floor, and then, without elevating her 
eyes, asked : 

“ Would your father consent?” 

“ No ; but I must see him, even if it is wrong. I 
must see him or die. Where will they take him ?” 

“ To prison.” 

“ But there are so many prisons. Every county 
has one of those horrible places. To which will he 
be taken ?” 

“ I will ascertain.” 

“ Will you do more ?” 

“What more?” 

“ Persuade Uncle Reuben to take me there.” 

After several moments she answered in the af- 
firmative. Aunt Rachel, who had been below attend- 
ingto some domestic duties, at this moment returned 
to the apartment of her niece. Flora placed her 
arms about her, kissed her wrinkled, faded cheek, 
and whispered : 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


67 


“ I want to go to him/’ 

“Oh, dear child, ye sheer me,” returned the good 
old lady. 

She had lived in constant dread of this request 
ever since the lover had been taken away. She 
knew her own weakness, and was confident that she 
could not withstand the tears and entreaties of her 
niece; but with Uncle Reuben it was quite differ- 
ent. He was firm to stubbornness, and Aunt Ra- 
chel doubted in her own mind their ability* to per- 
suade him into even permitting Flora to go. He 
had been very prompt and emphatic in pronoun- 
cing Horace a “ grand rascal,” which was the hard- 
est term Uncle Reuben was ever known to use. 

Flora slept very little that night ; and when 
morning came her pale, tearful face might have 
been seen looking out of the window, as if she 
was expecting some one. Aunt Rachel came to 
her room and said : 

“ Why, bless me, child, haven’t ye slept none?” 

“ But little. Aunt Rachel. Where did they take 
him?” 

“ I dun know, but we ’ll learn soon.” 

At breakfast Uncle Reuben was asked where the 
prisoner would probably be taken, and with his 
characteristic slowness expressed it as his opinion 
that he was in the Standish jail. Then began long, 
earnest persuasion to induce Uncle Reuben to go 
with her to see him. At first he flatly refused to 
either go himself or permit her to do so ; but tears 
and entreaties prevailed, so that he consented for 
Cater to harness the horse to the old disused rock- 


68 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


away and drive her to Rushville, where she could 
take the train for Standish. 

“Will you go with me, Aunt Rachel?’' she asked 
so pleadingly that the good woman could not re- 
fuse. 

“ I reckin I will hev to, child.” 

So, with Aunt Rachel at her side in the old 
rockaway, and Cater for coachman, they set off for 
Rushville. The rattle of loose bands and the clatter 
and groaning of old wheels filled one with appre- 
hensions for the crazy old vehicle ; but they reached 
the station in safety, and Aunt Rachel said : 

“ Now, Flo’, dear child, git th’ tickets, an’ don’t 
let that little upstart in blue coat an’ brass buttons 
at th’ winder cheat ye.” 

Flora assured her that they need have no fears 
of being swindled, and Aunt Rachel continued : 

“ I ’ve never been on them kears, an’ I ’m a mite 
skittish about goin’ on ’em.” 

Flora purchased the tickets, with Aunt Rachel 
standing by in great trepidation lest the train 
should “ jump the track.” When was the train due? 
In three hours. Was it on time ? It was if it stayed 
on the track. 

Aunt Rachel walked down to the end of the plat- 
form, where Cater sat in the front seat of the rock- 
away, and gave him his parting orders. 

“ Now d’ you go home, Cater, an’ help Aggy milk 
t’-night. Feed the ducks an’ th’ turkey I put in the 
coop that had its wing broke. Don’t furgit th’ pigs, 
an’ tell Rube t’ take keer o’ th’ place till I come 
back. I guess I ’ll git back some time ; this goin’ 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


69 


off t’ Standish is like goin’ t’ th’ other side o’ th’ 
world.” 

Cater sat holding the faded lines in his hands, 
muttering “ Yes um !” at each particular order. At 
last she got through and started, but she called him 
back to see if he had forgotten anything she had 
told him. He remembered most of them, and 
'She charged him anew, adding a few more duties, 
then dismissed him again ; and he drove away as 
fast as he dared for fear she might think of some- 
thing else to tell him. 

Time was dull enough until the train came. 
Flora was engaged in preventing Aunt Rachel 
giving the agent a piece of her mind for his im- 
pertinence in saying he had already told her six 
times how far it was to Standish, and the train 
would make it in two hours. Aunt Rachel was very 
indignant, and wanted to know what depot agents 
were for if not to answer people’s questions. 

The train came at last, and they boarded it. 
Aunt Rachel declared she felt awful skittish, and 
wondered how that man “ with the plug hat ” 
could sit and read a newspaper when any minute 
he might be plunged down an embankment and 
killed. She held her ticket so tightly in her hand 
when the conductor came for it, and so obstinately 
refused to let him have it, that Flora asked why 
she did not give it to him. She answered that she 
had heard so much about them confidence men 
that she thought he might be one. Flora assured 
her it was all right, and she allowed the conductor 
to take the ticket. 


70 


Mysteriotis Mr. Howard. 


I reckin ye think I ’m a fool, don’t ye, Flora?” 
she said. “ Well; I hev traveled so little that I 
reckin I dun know how t’ act.” 

They reached Stand ish by the middle of the 
afternoon, and upon inquiring, learned that Horace 
Rathburne was in the county jail. 

“ Let us go to the jail at once. Aunt Rachel,” said 
Flora. 

“ Rut, child, ye ain’t had no dinner, an’ precious 
little breakfast ; ye can’t stand this.” 

“ No, aunt ; I can’t taste food until I have seen 
Horace.” 

Aunt Rachel was silent. She was a woman and 
could appreciate Flora’s anxiety. Verily, there is 
no height nor depth, breadth nor length to woman’s 
love. It is boundless as .space and durable as 
eternity. 

Horace was sitting melancholy and alone in his 
cell when the dismal creaking of iron doors caused 
him to look up, and he saw the face of the jailer, 
who informed him some one wished to see him. 
He wondered who it could be. The jailer opened 
the door to his cell, and a light for mentered, seem- 
ing to bring a flood of sunshine with her. 

“ Horace !” 

“ Flora !” and the lovers were clasped in each 
other’s arms. 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


71 


CHAPTER VIL 

MR. HOWARD AND OLD GEORGE WEATHERBY. 

“ Flora, why did you come ?” the astonished pris- 
oner asked. 

“ Horace, did you think I could stay away from 
you in such a trial as this 

“ But the prison — the disgrace — ” 

“ What are they to me, Horace ? You were here, 
you were alone, no one to speak a word of cheer or 
comfort to you, and I would be unworthy the name 
of woman had I abandoned you in this distress.” 

“ Dear Flora !” he whispered, winding his arm 
about her and gently drawing her closer to him. 

One can afford to be imprisoned, falsely accused 
and per.secuted for such proof of love and con- 
stancy as this. Does your father know of this 
visit ?” 

“ No. He would surely have forbidden my com- 
ing had he known I intended to do so.” 

“ Have you braved his wrath to see me ?” 

“ Horace, I may be wrong, yes, very wrong, but I 
could not live without seeing you. My parents 
, would not let me. I love them. In all things save 
this I will be obedient to them, but God has given 
me a love stronger than theirs, and I must see you 


72 


Mysterioics Mr, Howard. 


or die. I must gaze into your eyes and read that 
innocence which no one else will believe.” 

He was silent several moments, for his emotions 
were beyond his control. At last he took her hand 
and said : 

“ Thank God, Flora, I can look you in the face 
and call Heaven to bear witness that I am inno- 
cent.” 

“ Surely they cannot prove you guilty, and you 
will soon be given your liberty.” 

“ Flora, be a brave little girl and prepare your- 
self for anything.” 

“ Why, Horace, if you are innocent — ” 

“ Many an innocent person has suffered for the 
guilt of others.” 

“ But surely you — ” 

I hope to prove myself innocent ; but no one 
wants to believe it now.” 

What proof have they against you ?” 

“ Two men whom I know. — and who, although 
their standing in society is not very high, will be 
believed — will swear they saw me on that day ; 
that I remained in the street and held the horses 
of the men who robbed the bank ; that, falling 
from my horse, my disguise was torn from my 
face.” 

“ Who are those men?” 

‘‘ Enoch Ralls and Jack Auglin.” 

“ Did you ever offend them ?” 

“No.” 

“Then why do they maliciously prosecute you 
and swear falsely against you ?” 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


73 


“ Those men think they are telling the truth.” 

How can they?” 

“ It is simply a case of mistaken identity,” he an- 
swered. “ Many an innocent man has been hung 
or sent to prison from mistaken identity, and I may 
add one more victim.” 

“Oh, Horace, Horace!” 

“ Let us talk no more on that subject. Take 
heart ^nd hope for the best. Let it end as it may, 
I am at peace with all the world, and, I trust, pre- 
pared to meet my God whenever He shall call me. 
I shall die happy in the glorious assurance and a 
full knowledge of your love and confidence in my 
innocence.” 

The parting was tender and affecting. He said 
he should hardly expect her to repeat her visit, for 
he knew her parents would object. 

“Obey your father in all things,” advised the 
prisoner. “ He is good and kind to you. He does 
what he believes for the best ; so wait, pray for the 
right and hope that all will soon be made right.” 

“ Horace, can you not write to me occasionally?” 
she asked. “ I will remain at Newburg.” 

“ Yes, I will try ; my letters will have to be sub- 
mitted to the jailer for his inspection and ap- 
proval.” 

She started, blushed for a moment, and then 
proudly said : 

“ Let him read them, and do not spare any word 
on that score. I care not if all the^world knows 
what they contain.” 

They parted, and she, with Aunt Rachel, took the 


74 


Alys ter ions Mr. Howard. 


night train for home. Aunt Rachel sat by the car 
window trying to pierce the darkness, and growing 
every moment more nervous as her imagination 
pictured some terrible barrier on the track. 

“ Pdora, this consarned thing is runnin’ into th’ 
ground,’’ she declared. 

“ No, aunt, it is all right.” 

‘‘ Isn’t it off the track ?” 

- No.” 

She started at every extraordinary creak, vowing 
if she reached home safe she would never ^‘resk 
her life ag’in in a railway kear.” At last Rushville 
was reached shortly after midnight, and they took 
a room in the hotel. Aunt Rachel locked, bolted 
and barred the door and set a chair against it. 

“ I ’ve hearn so much about them city burglars 
that I shan’t sleep a wink t’-night, I know,” she de- 
clared. 

The loud-tongued gong awoke her next morning, 
and she leaped out of bed, crying : “ Fire ! mur- 

der ! help ! thieves !” until Flora seized her arm 
and assured her that it was only the gong to 
waken them for breakfast. 

“ Oh, I ’m a fool, I reckin,” declared Aunt Ra- 
chel. “ I keep tavern myself and orter know some- 
thin’, but times an’ things ain’t now as they used t’ 
be. They ’ve got so many new-fangled notions 
that I feel ez if I had been dead an’ buried, like 
Rip Van Winkle, what yer uncle used t’ read 
about.” 

Shortly after breakfast old Cater came with the 
ancient vehicle and took them back to the gloomy. 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


75 


silent old tavern, with Uncle Reuben sitting as 
usual on the porch, waiting for the return of a 
once prosperous business. 

Mrs. Howard was in her room, quiet as usual. 
She did not mention the subject of Flora’s visit 
until the next day, when she asked : 

“ Did you see him ?” 

■ “Yes.” 

“ I hope you found him cheerful ?” 

“ How can he be when some strange circum- 
stances seem to be weaving about him a net from 
which there is so little hope of escape? Two men 
swear they recognized him.” 

“ Maybe they are mistaken.” 

“ They are mistaken ; but I fear a jury will be- 
lieve them.” 

Mrs. Howard changed the subject, and shortly 
after went to her room aud locked herself up 
with her children. That night Mr. Howard came, 
and Cater put his horse in the barn. He remained 
until the middle of the next day, spending nearly 
all the time in his wife’s apartment. 

“ Dat man am gittin’ mighty mysterious,” de- 
clared old Cater to Uncle Reuben. “ Why, I decla’ 
he jis come an’ go like a ghost. No ’n know wha’ 
he cometh nur wha’ he goeth.” 

“ Tain’t none o’ our business,” answered Uncle 
Reuben, gazing after the solitary horseman disap- 
pearing over the hill. 

Mr. Howard was more thoughtful than usual that 
bright, sunny afternoon, as his great black steed 
jogged slowly over the road. His head was bowed. 


76 


Mysterious Mr, Howard, 


and one might have thought him a clergyman con- 
ning o’er his next day’s sermon. But anon he sat 
up erect in his saddle, chirruped to his horse, and 
the spirited animal galloped on mile after mile 
without seeming the least fatigued. 

The day had been sultry, and toward evening 
the western skies became overcast, and there was 
every indication of a storm. Mr. Howard had 
passed two or three villages, and was pressing on 
as if he had some certain goal to reach before dark. 
Those lowering clouds in the west and the 
occasional rumbling of thunder caused some 
apprehension on his part, and he quickened his 
pace. 

“ The prospect of passing the night in such a 
storm as we are going to have, without shelter, is 
not pleasing,” he thought. 

He seemed to have wandered into a portion of the 
country thinly inhabited. He had for hours been 
riding through hills, breaks and forests, with 
scarcely a sign of human civilization save the beaten 
road. But just as the darkness began to deepen 
into night, and the storm which had been so long' 
threatening seemed ready to burst in all its fury 
upon him^ a farmhonse loomed up on the hill, and 
galloping to the gate, he threw himself from the 
saddle and called the farmer to his aid. 

“What d’ ye want?” asked a man about fifty 
years of age, with shaggy whiskers and sandy hair 
streaked with silver. His face was not a pleasant 
one, for toil and exposure had deepened the lines 
which avarice had started into wrinkles. 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


/ / 


“ It’s going to storm,” replied Mr, Howard, “ and 
I beg the hospitality of your roof for the night.” 

“ Wall, stranger, we don’t keep tavern, but I 
reckin we can’t turn ye away when it ’sgoin’ to rain 
like blue blazes. Bring yer boss around t’ th’ barn 
an’ let ’s put him up.” 

Mr. Howard led his tired horse through the big 
gate into the barn lot, to the barn, where he quickly 
removed the saddle and bridle. The animal was 
soon carefully rubbed down, and eating his corn, 
oats and hay in his stall, while Mr. Howard and the 
farmer went to the house just in time to escape the 
first fury of the storm. 

“ What ’s yer name, stranger ?” asked the farmer. 

“ Thomas Howard.” 

“ Air ye a cattle buyer ?” 

“ No, I am not buying stock at’ present, but look- 
ing out for a location for a large cattle ranch. I 
want to buy a thousand acres in a body.” 

Massy sakes, that’s a heap o’ land !” 

‘‘Yes, but I expect to have the assistance of men 
with money, and we will raise cattle by the thou- 
sands. I beg pardon, sir, but I believe I do not 
know your name.” 

“ Weatherby is my name — George Weatherby. 
Guess you hev hearn it afore.” 

“ I don’t know that I have,” remarked Mr. How- 
ard, coolly. 

“ Why, I thought everybody in the hull country 
knowed how I wus disgraced.” 

“ Disgraced ?” 

“ Yes, by my nephew. Hain’t ye hearn tell on et ?” 


78 


]\Iysterious Mr. Howard. 


Mr. Howard gave him a look of astonishment 
and answered : 

“ I never heard of yon or your nephew before. 
What do you mean ?” 

“ I never like t’ talk about family matters, but I 
reckin I mought ez well tell ye, now that I ’ve got 
yer curiosity raised. I came from Virginia here t’ 
Missouri and brung my sister’s child, Arthur West- 
fall, both o’ his parents bein’ dead. He warn’t 
nuthin’ but a baby then, an’ we raised him ez ten- 
derly ez we could, an’ my ole woman sot a great 
store by him. He growed up t’ be a young man, 
an’ we had him eddicated, an’ he went t’ clerk in 
Mark Hunt’s store. Thar he got t’ livin’ fast, an’ t’ 
keep up that kind uv a life stole from th’ money- 
drawer.” 

“ Was he convicted ?” 

“ No. Mark, fur my sake, wouldn’t push him, ye 
know.” 

“ Where is he now ?” 

“ Dun know. Mark discharged him, an’ he kim 
back home t’ stay, cos he couldn’t find any other 
place, an’ I driv him off.” 

“ Have you never seen nor heard from him 
since?” asked Mr. Howard. 

“ No.” 

Have you made any inquiry ?” 

No.’ 

“Mr. Weatherby, your nephew may be inno- 
cent.” 

“ No, he ain’t. I tell ye he ain’t. No ’n’ but him 
an’ Ab Nichols knowed whar th’ money wuz, an’ 


Mysterious Mr, Howard, 


79 


Ab proved an allerby — that he warn’t thar when it 
wuz done.’’ 

“ Don’t you think you were rather harsh with 
your dead sister’s child?” asked Mr. Howard, 
coolly. 

“Why ?” 

“ Even if he was guilty, he is but a young man, 
scarcely more than a boy, and perhaps this was his 
first offense.” 

The wrath of the farmer flamed out in gusts, and 
he sprang to his feet, and, striding up and down the 
floor, cried : 

“ No, no ; ye don’t understand it at all. He is 
lost. He disgraced me an’ my wife. Th’ beggar 
never had a dollar in his life except what I gave 
him. Becky an’ me starved ourselves and went in 
rags t’ git him. through school. Yes, we went cold 
and hungry fur him. We give him th’ best part o’ 
our lives, an’ he disgraced us. No, he don’t deserve 
anybody’s sympathy.” 

Mr. Howard sat gazing in silence into the dark, 
wide-mouthed fireplace. His features were as im- 
movable as if they had been carved out of stone. 
Mr. Howard was a remarkable man in more ways 
than one, but his most remarkable characteristic 
was the concealment of his emotions. Those who 
remember him (no one ever knew him) could tell 
nothing of the thoughts that stirred his breast. He 
might be in full sympathy or utterly detest one, 
but his features were the same — plain, pleasant, ex- 
pressionless and immovable. 

“ Come out to supper !” called the wife. 


8o 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


They rose, left the sitting-room, and went into 
the kitchen, which also served for dining-room, 
where the farmer’s silent wife had spread the board 
for the evening meal. They seated themselves, 
and without ceremony fell to eating in silence. 

The nephew was not referred to again, though he 
was in Mr. Howard’s mind long after he lay on his 
couch, listening to the patter of the rain on the 
roof of the old farmhouse. 


CHAPTER VHI. 

MR. MEEKER SCHEMES. 

No one to have seen Mr. Meeker in his place of 
business next day would have dreamed that the 
fondest hope of his life had just been blighted. He 
was smiling, cheerful and brisk, as if Grace Hawley 
had consented to become his wife, instead of having 
flatly refused him. Mr. Meeker possessed the art 
of dissembling to a remarkable degree, and while 
there might be a “ mounting devil ” at his heart, his 
exterior was as calm and peaceful as a summer’s 
morning. 

Late hours and dissipation made no difference to 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


8i 


him, and he was bright, smiling and cheerful, 
though he had scarcely slept two hours the night 
before. Mr. James Odin, the bookkeeper, was the 
only person in the bank when he arrived. 

“ Mr. Meeker,” said Mr. Odin, in a faltering tone. 

“Well, James, what is it ?” 

“ I want to call your attention again to some en- 
tries in the books — ” 

“ No, no, not now ! 1 am busy, James.” 

“ But, Mr. Meeker, this cannot be let run much 
longer.” 

“ What do you mean ?” 

“ I mean that I will have to post up the books, 
show the deficit, and call the attention of the di- 
rectors to it.” 

“ Hold on, James ! For Heaven’s sake, don’t ruin 
me !” 

“ Then, Mr. Meeker, you must explain this.” 

Mr. Meeker’s face, usually smiling and happy, 
had grown considerably paler. He walked to the 
door, which was still closed, for the hour was early 
and the bank not open for business. Returning to 
the bookkeeper, whose face wore a puzzled and 
confused look, he asked : 

“James, did I not get this position for you ?” 

“ Yes ; but — ” 

“ Do you really want to ruin me ?” 

“ No ; but if I go on keeping crooked books and 
making false entries, I am liable to land myself in 
the penitentiary. I tell you there is a shortage of 
several thousand dollars, and your last trip to 
Chicago increased it some fifteen hundred more.” 


82 


Mysterious Mr. Howai^d. 


“ Don’t say anything about it. I can replace it 
soon.” 

“ Mr. Meeker, you have said that so often that I 
have really begun to doubt your ability to do as 
you promise. True, it was through your kindness 
I got this place, for which I am very grateful. But 
if you think I am going to cover up your losses in 
speculations in the Board of Trade and Stock Ex- 
change, you are mistaken. My liberty is worth too 
much to me for that.” 

Meeker shrugged his shoulders. 

“ This is cursed luck !” he thought. “ If the Gen- 
eral’s daughter would marry me, the old man would 
do nothing; but as it is, with confidence betrayed, 
I know he would jail me.” Turning quickly on the 
bookkeeper, who he knew would not much longer 
cover up his defalcation, he said : “ Look here, 

James — Mr. Odin, I mean. This can all be fixed. 
I tell you you are in no danger. The State funds 
are to be deposited here.” 

“ How will that account for a shortage of nearly 
seven thousand — ” 

“ Oh, I have the money.” 

Then deposit it.” 

I can’t do it now.” 

I cannot much longer delay my report, and 
when it is made it will be truthful.” 

“ No, no, no. I tell you it is all right.” 

If it is all right, why do you object to my mak- 
ing my report?” 

“ I don’t — I don’t. But wait and give me a chance.” 

The bookkeeper turned away with a distrustful 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


o 


expression on his face and resumed work at his 
desk. Meeker knew the fellow had him in his 
power. Though James Odin was under obligations 
to Meeker, it was quite evident that the cashier 
could not make a tool of him. Odin was actuated 
partially by a sense of honor and partially by fear 
of the consequences. Should he aid the cashier to 
cover up th e shortage by making false entries, 
he knew he would be particeps criminis^ and prob- 
ably occupy the adjoining cell to him in prison. 
Mr. Odin had determined that, come what might, he 
would keep his skirts clear. 

“ I am poor and have little influence,” bethought, 
and if there is any way of saddling this offense 
on me, it will certainly be done. No, I must guard 
against it ; I will guard against it, and no crooked- 
ness shall be laid at my door.” 

It would be difficult to make the directors believe 
their trusted cashier had defaulted. Mr. Meeker 
had impressed that fact on his mind again and 
again. 

“Something has got to be done,” Meeker thought, 
as he took his place at his desk, after having se- 
cured a postponement of the report for a few days. 
“ Why, I am in a devil of a fix. If there was any 
possibility of winning that girl, I could go on and 
be sure I was safe ; but there is a little particle of 
hope. She loves no one else, though, and that is a 
point in my favor, and I shall not give her up.” 

Strange, dark plots were evolving from the 
brain of the cashier as he leaned his head on his 
hand. 


84 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


“ Mr. Meeker, the hour for opening has arrived,” 
said a clerk. 

“ Unlock the door.” 

It was a busy day at the Hawley bank, and clerks, 
paying teller, cashier and all were busy until the 
closing hour. Odin and Meeker were the last to 
leave the building. All day long the cashier’s mind 
had been busy with a desperate plan, and when he 
and the bookkeeper were alone, he said : 

“ I want a word with you, Odin.” 

“ Well ?” 

“ Would you accept a situation in an Iowa bank if 
it was offered you and you could get away from 
here honorably?” 

“ Yes,” said Odin. Although he felt certain that 
Meeker was doing something wrong, he had no in- 
clination to be a party to his conviction. “ But my 
books shall be straight to the hour of my leaving.” 

“ That will be all right. I must get another 
bookkeeper — one who is not quite so nervous.” 

“ I hope you do not intend doing any wrong?” 

“ Why, no, of course not. I value my position in 
the world too much for that. Now here I have it,” 
he said, taking a letter from his pocket. “ The 
cashier of Logan’s Bank, in a good Iowa town, has 
written me to know if I can recommend a compe- 
tent bookkeeper, and I will recommend you at 
once.” 

How soon will that take me away ?” 

“ Before it will be necessary to make your 
monthly report. Will you take the place ?” 

“The salary?” 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


85 


“ The same, but the climate is more congenial to 
your health,” and a strange, dangerous smile played 
over Meeker’s face. 

“ Yes, I will do it. But my expenses there ?” 

“ I will get you a pass.” 

“ Say I will take it.” 

“ I will telegraph your answer in five minutes.” 

“ And the new bookkeeper ?” 

“ We will get along some way.” 

He left the bank, to return almost immediately 
and caution Odin to keep mum on the subject. 

“ It might cause some aw'kward explanations for 
both of us,” he said. “ We would both be held 
equally guilty.” 

“ I will only say what I am compelled to say,” 
Odin answered. “ I shall leave the books for the 
new man to balance ; you can deal with him as you 
will.” 

“ Yes, yes, I know ; but you will be safe in Iowa, 
and need not fear any inquiry into your acts. So 
good day. You can go home and pack your 
trunks, for you will be telegraphed to come next 
train.” 

Mr. Meeker went to his hotel, for, being a single 
man, he lived at a hotel. He wrote a note to a dis- 
solute fellow named Bob Maddox, and sent, it to 
him by a messenger boy. 

“You will find him at Conroy’s saloon,” he said 
to the messenger. It was early in the evening, and 
Maddox had not yet time to get drunk, when the 
boy entered the saloon. 

“ Are you Bob Maddox ?” he asked. 


86 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


“ Yes ; whatcher want with fne ?” growled Bob 
huskily. 

“ Here is a note for you,” and he- handed him the 
note from Meeker. Bob took it and read : 

Bob Maddox: Will you meet me at the old mill below 
town to-night, at eleven ? Answer on this. I will pay you for 
coming, even if we don’t make a trade. C. Meeker,” 

Bob, who had nothing to engage his attention in 
particular on that night, took a pencil and wrote in 
a broad, scrawling hand across the face of the 
paper : “ Yes ! ” and giving the note to the mes- 

senger, said : 

“ Take it back ter him.” 

When Meeker received the answer, he tore up 
the paper, and, burning the scraps, said : 

“ I)Tow to play a bold scheme ! It ’s a unique 
one — one that has never been attempted in fiction 
or reality. If it succeeds, I am saved, and, who 
knows, she may be glad to be my wife yet.” 

Calvin Meeker loved Grace Hawley in his way. 
Her cool rejection of him was humiliating to his 
pride, and he determined to crush her spirit as well 
as save himself. 

“ I can do both if my cards are played right. I 
will sound Bob Maddox to the bottom, and give him 
to understand if he obeys it is wealth, if he betrays 
me it is death.” 

The hour for the meeting came, and Mr. Meeker 
donned his silk hat, took his cane, and without any 
effort to disguise himself or keep his visit a secret, 
walked down to the old mill which stood in the out- 
skirts of the town on the river bank. The moon 


Mystei'ious Mr. Howard. 


87 


shone brightly from a cloudless sky, and the path to 
the mill could be easily followed, though it led 
through a grove of oaks. He entered the office, 
went to the secretary and lighted a lamp. The 
mill had been idle for three months. It was in the 
hands of a receiver, and Meeker was the receiver. 

He sat at his desk a moment looking over some 
papers, when there came a shambling step, and Bob 
Maddox entered. • 

“ Hello, Bob ! Are you duly sober?” he asked. 

“ Yes,” in a hoarse voice. 

“ Sit down,” and he pushed a chair toward him. 

Bob seated himself, and Mr. Meeker rose and 
carefully closed the door, saw that the blinds were 
securely fastened, and, returning to the desk, said : 

“ Bob, I want to talk with you on a curious busi- 
ness. Do you want to make a few thousand dollars 
right easily ?” 

“ Do I ?” leering at his interlocutor. “ Do a 
thirsty duck wan ter swim ?” 

“ Now wait a moment. You served in the late 
war, did you not ?” 

You bet !” 

“ Were you with Quantrell, Anderson and Todd, 
the great Missouri guerrillas?” 

‘‘ Yes ; but they are all dead now.” 

“ I know those leaders are dead, but there are 
many of the old guard living, and I have heard it 
said they stick together through thick and thin.” 

“ Wall, whut ef we do ?” 

“ That is just what I want you to do. Bob. Now 
I know how some of your friends could make a 


88 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


pile of money, and you could get a good share of 
it yourself.” 

Bob fixed his bleared eyes on the speaker a long 
time in silence, and then said : 

“ See here ; ef yer tryin’ t’ git my neck in a noose, 
yer blame badly mistaken.” 

“ I don’t ask you to do anything that endangers 
your life or liberty.” 

“ Whut d’ ye want ?” 

For answer, Mr. Meeker took a pencil and wrote 
a name on a slip of paper, and handing it to him, 
said : 

“ I want to talk with that man.” 

“ Whut ? D’ ye think I ’d turn spy ?” 

“No, I am nbt so foolish as to attempt his cap- 
ture. I want to talk with him on business.” 

They conversed a long time in whispers. Bob be- 
came more earnest, and at last said : 

“ I ’ll see ’f it kin be done, but doubt it.” 

“ Do it, and the money is yours.” 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


89 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE IMPRISONED LOVER AND THE OUTRAGED 
PARENT. 

In his narrow, dark cell, Horace Rathburne was 
leading a miserable existence. His sudden arrest 
had been such a surprise that it stunned him, and 
at first he could hardly persuade himself it was 
not some horrible dream. He tried to argue with 
himself that he had been guilty of no crime and 
had nothing to fear, but his memory with tantaliz- 
ing vividness recalled stories of innocent men suf- 
fering for the guilty. He passed through all the 
degrees of misfortune a prisoner at his first incar- 
ceration in a dungeon must suffer. He commenced 
with pride, a natural consequence of hope, and a 
consciousness of innocence, which justified in some 
measure the action of the sheriff and his deputies. 
He had to admit there were some suspicious cir- 
cumstances connected with his conduct, and he was 
at times in such a state of mind as to almost be- 
lieve he might, in a delirium of which he was now 
unconscious, have perpetrated the robbery. 

He entreated to be removed from his present 
dungeon to another ; for a change, however disad- 


90 


Mysteriotis Mr. Hoivard. 


vantageous, was still a change, and would afford 
him some diversion. He entreated to be allowed 
to walk about, to have books and instruments. 
Nothing was granted ; no matter, he asked all the 
same. He was a bank robber, one of a class who 
had become the dread of Missouri, and the most 
harmless musical instrument might become a terri- 
ble weapon in his hands. He accustomed himself 
to speak to his jailer, although that person grew 
more and more taciturn every day. 

One night, shortly after his imprisonment, he 
heard the noise of a great crowd of people without, 
from which angry voices went up on every side. 
There was only a low, sullen, rumbling sound at 
first, which gradually came nearer and nearer, until 
it burst like a resistless storm all about the jail, 
seeming to shake the prison to its very foundation- 
stone. He felt no apprehension at first, but anon 
from out the angry roar of voices there came in- 
telligible words ; 

“ Hang him ! String him up ! Curse him — he 
robbed our bank ; let us hang him up an’ be done 
with it !” 

“Oh, Heaven, it is coming !” he thought, and fell 
on his knees in the corner of his cell, like a poor 
hunted rat. 

He had not thought of death before, but now it 
came on . him with all its terrors, and he actually 
quaked with fear. He had heard of lynchers, had 
read of their terribly bloody deeds, but had scarcely 
ever given them a passing thought. Now they rose 
before him in all their hideousness, and in a light 


Mysteriotis ]\fr. Hoivard. 


91 


he had never imagined before. To die, and by the 
hangman ! Who can endure the thought without 
time to steel his nerves for the ordeal ? But to be 
torn from prison without time for a moment’s prep- 
aration, a rough, cruel rope fastened about his neck, 
and dragged to a tree or lamp-post and hanged 
until one was dead, completely overpowered him. 
In his imagination he saw his poor mutilated body 
dragged through the street. Oh, Heaven ! what 
was he to do ? He who had never wronged one by 
word or thought, was now to suffer such a fate. 

Don’t think Horace a coward. He could face 
death with coolness when prepared for it ; but this 
was so sudden, so. disgraceful, so awful, that it 
seemed to freeze his blood. The uproar about the 
jail became greater every moment, until he thought 
they must burst in the walls of the prison. 

“ Say, pardner,” called a gruff voice from another 
cell, “ I reckin ye hear that noise out thar ? It ’s you 
they ’re arter. Farewell, mate. I hope ye ’ll meet 
it like a man.” 

That criminal taught him a lesson of courage. 
After a short prayer to God, he rose and seated 
himself on the vermin-infested bunk, determined to 
meet his fate with the courage and resignation of a 
hero. 

Then above the uproar without came the clear, 
ringing tones of some one appealing to the angry 
mob for reason and law. He asked God to bless 
the speaker, and though he never learned his name, 
he never ceased to pray for him since. He was a 
brave man, for he stood in defiance of the mob and 


92 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


vSwore the prisoner should not be harmed. For a 
long time it seemed doubtful if he would prevail. 
That single manly voice was drowned amid the 
roar of hundreds of angry men. But at last the 
uproar began to subside ; and then the voice of 
reason and humanity could be heard in mild ap- 
peal, asking them to retire and let the law take its 
course. 

Slowly and sullenly the mob retired, ashamed 
and yet angry. When the mob had gone, the man 
in the adjoining cell called out : “ Say, pardner, 

yer safe now. They don’t hardly ever try it a 
second time. Ye kin thank th’ feller that made th’ 
speech fur savin’ yer bacon.” 

Horace made no answer, but threw himself on 
his couch and tried to sleep. Days passed, and 
then came the visit of Flora, as already recorded. 
He took care to keep from her ears the story of the 
attempted lynching. All the pious idea that had 
been so long forgotten returned ; he recollected the 
prayers his mother had taught him, and discovered 
a new meaning in every word. In prosperity 
prayers seem but an assemblage of words, but 
when the day of misfortune comes, the language 
by which the unhappy sufferer invokes the pity of 
Heaven becomes sublime. He prayed, and prayed 
aloud, no longer terrified at the sound of his own 
voice ; for he fell into a species of ecstasy. He 
laid every action of his life before the Almighty, 
proposed so many tasks to accomplish, and at the 
end of every prayer introduced the entreaty oftener 
addressed to man than God, “ Forgive us our tres- 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


93 


passes as we forgive them that trespass against 
us.” 

“ The hypocrite !” sneeringly declared the jailer 
when he once heard him at prayer. 

Three or four days after Flora's visit, he had 
risen from his devotions and was sitting in his dark 
cell, gloomy and despondent, when the sound of 
voices reached his ears, and a few moments later 
the jailer entered and said : 

“ Rathburne, here ’s a visitor to see ye.” 

“ I wonder who else can want to see me?” he 
thought. 

A moment later he was staring in amazement at 
a man past fifty years of age, who had just been 
ushered into his cell, and who stood winking and 
blinking in the unaccustomed darkness. His face 
was smooth-shaven and not unpleasant, though 
marked with firmness. At sight of him Horace 
started back, saying : 

“ Mr. Wells !” 

Horace, Horace,” said the merchant, grasping 
the hand of his former employee, “ believe me, I 
am sorry to see you here.” 

“ Mr. Wells, I swear I am innocent.” 

“ No, no, don’t try to come that over me, my 
boy ; for I have talked with the witnesses, and their 
word can’t be questioned.” 

“ Mr. Wells, I swear — ” 

“ No, don’t swear at all.” 

‘‘Won’t you believe me?” 

“ Not in this.” 

Horace dropped down upon the couch, put his 


94 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


hand over his face and for a moment could scarcely 
repress the groan of agony that rose to his throat. 
After a few moments he lifted his head, and said : 

“ Mr. Wells, I was three years in your employ.” 

“ So you were.” 

“ In all that time, did you ever have cause to 
doubt my word ?” 

“ Ahem ! But — but you see this entirely alters 
the case.” 

“ Was I not always honest with you?” 

“ Yes, but — ” 

“ Did I not have abundance of opportunities to 
rob you if I had so desired?” 

“ I admit all you say, Horace ; but things have 
changed. I don’t say you are wholly without ex- 
cuse.” 

“ Mr. Wells, you surely do not understand me.” 

“ I understand you thoroughly,” declared the 
merchant, drawing a stool near the bunk on which 
the prisoner sat. “There are many sentimental 
people who would try to justify you, but I don’t. 
I understand all. While you were with me you 
were sober, honest and reliable. I liked you, 
Horace ; I liked you well ; and lost no opportunity 
to show you that I did. But you abused my trust 
in you. You infatuated my only child. Flora, who 
was a young and susceptible girl — ” 

“ Pardon me, Mr. Wells, but I really love your 
daughter.” 

“ If you did you should have remembered your 
standing !” cried the merchant, angrily. “ But you 
did not, and she had to suffer. I sent her away to 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


95 


a quiet place where you could not find her, and dis- 
charged you, hoping you would leave the State ; but 
you did not do it.” 

“ No ; I could not, Mr. Wells. I could not leave 
Flora.” 

“ Nonsense ! Listen. If you loved her so, why 
were you seen at Muldoon’s saloon two evenings 
after you were discharged ?” 

“ A man to whom I had loaned a small sum of 
money w^as in there, and I went in to try to get it.” 

“ Yes, but I ’ll warrant you imbibed freely before 
you left.” 

“ Why, Mr. Wells, you know I never — ” 

“ Not while with me ; but when discharged no 
doubt you thought you would go and drown your 
trouble in a glass ; and then you began to drift. 
We lost sight of you. You were angry at being 
discharged ; filled with disappointment at not gain- 
ing the hand of a rich bride whom you thought you 
had won, and went on growing every day more 
reckless. At last you met those desperadoes, who- 
ever they were, and planned this robbery.” 

“ Mr. Wells, as Heaven is my witness, you wrong 
me.” 

“ Hold, don’t interrupt me,” went on the mer- 
chant, raising his hand, and by his very manner 
commanding silence. “ I don’t say that any other 
young man might not have done the same. We 
never know what men in their desperation may or 
may not do, until they are tried ; but when the 
deed is once done it cannot be condoned. You 
ought to feel thankful that no lives were lost in 


96 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


that affair, for then 5^ours would have been the 
forfeit.” 

“ Mr. Wells, you go on the presumption that I 
am guilty.” 

“Of course, of course! Why will you deny it? 
I would think much more of you if you would 
boldly face it, admit the truth and plead penitence, 
than to try to cover it up with a plea of inno- 
cence.” 

“ I cannot admit what I never did.” 

“ Hush, Horace. I have talked with two of the 
witnesses who saw you when the bank was robbed. 
I know those men, and know they are not lying 
about it. Why should they? They have no wish 
to injure you. They may be poor and lazy, but 
there is not a man living that will say that either 
Ralls or Auglin would perjure himself. But, Hor- 
ace, I feel sorry for you. You are poor, naturally 
you are honest, and I don’t want to see you pun- 
ished. You served me faithfully while in my em- 
ploy, and really I have a warm place in my heart 
for you.” 

He ceased speaking, and Horace, with bowed 
head, maintained silence. 

“ What have you to say for yourself ? Why don’t 
you vSay something?” 

Why should I say anything? You will not be- 
lieve me.” 

“ Horace, you shock me by insisting on your in- 
nocence, which I know cannot be true. I pity you 
more than I blame you. I want to do what is best 
for you if you will let me.” Then lowering his 


Mysterioics Mr. Howard. 


97 


voice so that no one save the inmate of the cell 
might hear him, he added : “ There are but two 
men who really recognized you. You can be con- 
victed only by their evidence. I can send them off 
on some business that will detain them until after 
the Grand Jury, and you will be discharged for lack 
of evidence. I will do it if you will leave Missouri 
and never return or correspond with any one in 
the State.” 

He gazed at the speaker for several minutes in 
amazement, then answered : 

“ Mr. Wells, I am innocent, and I will not leave 
the State. No, do not send any witness away on 
my account. I will face my accusers.” 

What ! Are you a fool ?” 

‘‘ I may be a fool, but I never committed that 
crime.” 

Innocent or guilty, you will be convicted.” 

“ I would rather be convicted an innocent man 
than slink away like a thief afraid of justice. I ask 
the aid of no technical advantage of law ; it is not 
justice that I fear.” 

“ Young man, you will change your tune,” cried 
Mr. Wells, angrily, and placing his hat on his head, 
he left the prison. 


98 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


CHAPTER X. 

MRS. HOWARD’S SYMPATHY. 

Flora Wells was for a long time kept in ignorance 
of her father’s visit to her lover. She languished 
at the old house of Uncle Reuben, with no desire 
to leave. It was so quiet, so isolated from all the 
world, that it seemed just the place for the grief- 
stricken to come to mourn, or the abashed to hide 
their heads. She dared not face her friends or 
relatives, and her father she intuitively knew was 
Horace’s worst enemy. 

In her soberest moments she shuddered at the 
reasonableness of his guilt. Why should Ralls and 
Auglin testify falsely against him? They could 
have no possible motive in doing so. Then could 
he possibly account for their being mistaken ? She 
often sat in her room long after every one in the 
house was buried in slumber trying to discover 
evidence — unquestionable evidence of his inno- 
cence. 

One night she sat by her window later than 
usual, gazing at the far-off stars, and asking herself 
if God was just in all his dealings with mankind, 
when she heard the tramp of a horse’s feet coming 
down the road. Her room was dark, for she had 


Mysteriojis Mr. Howard. 


99 


long since extinguished the lamp. She gazed down 
upon the star-lit road and saw a honseman ride 
leisurely to the front of the house, halt, dismount, 
tie his horse, and, picking up a pebble, toss it 
against Mrs. Howard’s window. As he did so, his 
face was turned directly toward the house, and she 
recognized him as Mr. Howard. Leaning from the 
window, she said : 

“ If you wish to see Mrs. Howard, I will call her.” 

“ Excuse me. Miss Wells ; I wanted to speak with 
my wife without disturbing you.” 

“ I am coming, Thomas.” 

A moment later the faithful wife came down and 
went softly out to her husband, who was standing 
by his steed at the gate. 

“ Can’t you come in and wait until morning?” she 
asked. 

“ No, no, I must go in a few moments.” 

They strolled over the hill to an old, deserted 
house, and she could see no more of them. Mrs. 
Howard was gone about half an hour, when she 
came back, and shortly after she had entered her 
room a pair of horsemen rode past the house in 
the direction the mysterious Mr. Howard had gone. 
She afterward remembered that she had asked her- 
self if they could have anything to do with Mr. 
Howard. Next day she and Mrs. Howard took 
their accustomed stroll down the forest path. 

“ I pity you. Flora, I pity you from the bottom of 
my heart,” declared Mrs. Howard. 

“ Thank you, Mrs. Howard, I know what you say 
comes from the heart.” 


lOO 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


“ We all have our griefs and cares,” continued 
Mrs. Howard. “ We all have our secrets, too, which 
we keep from all but God.” 

“ I have no secrets, Mrs. Howard. I love Horace, 
and am not ashamed of it. He is manly, noble and 
grand, and now that he is falsely accused I will not 
desert him. Heaven forbid I should ever desert 
any one in distress, least of all him. He is inno- 
cent ! He is innocent !” 

As they walked slowly down the path, the wife 
of the mysterious man kept her eyes on the ground. 
She was very thoughtful. The birds flitted about 
from tree to tree, and the timid hare scampered 
away -to the deeper shades filled with the odor of 
last year’s leaves moistened by rains and half de- 
cayed. At last Mrs. Howard raised her head and 
said : 

“ Would you not love him just the same if he was 
guilty?” 

“ He is not guilty, Mrs. Howard.” 

“ But even if he was, would you not still love 
him ?” 

“ How could I help it ?” 

“ You could not, dear child. The heart is beyond 
our control. When once we love, like Paolo and 
Francesca, we must follow that love even to perdi- 
tion.” 

Flora paused and looked aghast in the face of 
the speaker. She was half frightened at her terri- 
ble earnestness. Seeing she had startled her young 
companion, Mrs. Howard entwined her arms about 
her and said : 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


lOI 


“Flora, you are young; you know not to what 
heights and depths we may go for those we 
love. Charity covers a multitude of sins, but love 
hides all. Oh, my dear Flora, you believe your 
lover is innocent. So do I, for your sake. God 
grant we may not be mistaken ; but if love is deeply 
seated in your heart, you could forgive even if he 
were guilty. There are so many circumstances sur- 
rounding crime. One may be driven to it; one 
may be forced by a hundred different circumstances 
into crime. P'ew criminals are so from choice ; ne- 
cessity, wrongs, and a thousand other things which 
the world never knows, drive men to desperate 
deeds.” 

“ He is innocent.” 

“Child, I love you for saying that,” whispered 
Mrs. Howard. “ I like you to believe he must be 
innocent. Yet if he was not, would he be wholly 
blameless? He was discharged — thrown out of 
employment for something over which he had no 
control. How could he help loving you?” And as 
Mrs. Howard gazed on that beautiful face she 
thought no one could help doing that. “ You were 
both young, beautiful and gifted, and because he 
loved and was loved in return he was discharged 
and pursued by persecution. There are many men 
who by dishonest means suddenly acquire a for- 
tune. Perhaps he thought if he could suddenly 
become rich he might then win his heart’s idol, 
as poverty was the only barrier between him and 
you.” 

“ But he is innocent,” she interposed. 


102 


Mysterious Mr, Howard, 


“ Of course he is. But if he was not, surely you 
must still love him. He might have fallen at the 
very moment when his heart was most rebellious 
into the hands of the banditti, who, knowing his 
wrongs and temptations, persuaded him to at one 
stroke make a fortune and win the girl he loved.” 

Flora turned her soft, blue eyes, now welling over 
with tears, upon her companion, and repeated the 
sentence in the same trust and confidence : 

He is innocent.” 

“ Heaven bless you. Flora ! He is innocent ! He 
must be innocent !” 

Flora fell sobbing on her companion’s breast, and 
cried : 

“ What must I do ? What must I do ?” 

“ Do as your heart dictates. Persist in his inno- 
cence, and stand by him in this the darkest hour of 
his life.” 

“ I will ! I will !” 

“ For the one you love it is your duty to forsake 
all and follow.” 

They walked on in silence while the birds twit- 
tered about, flitting from branch to branch and 
singing merrily. They seemed, in their sweet, in- 
nocent way, to strive to cheer the drooping spirits 
of the heart-broken girl. The timid hare paused 
on his hind legs and gazed at her with eyes filled 
with sympathy. The breeze that fanned her cheek 
was perfumed with the aroma of sweetest flowers. 
But all the efforts of nature to restore her happiness 
were in vain. Happiness is from within, and out- 
ward surroundings cannot affect it. If the heart is 


Mysterious Mir. Howard. 


103 


light and gay, cold, hunger and a hovel are prefer- 
able to a palace with sadness. 

They came to a beautiful rivulet, and at the root 
of a gnarled oak, covered with wild grapevines, 
seated themselves. 

'' How long will you remain here. Flora ?” Mrs. 
Howard asked. 

“ I do not know.” 

“ Do you wish to return home ?” 

Not now.” 

“ Why ?” 

“ I could never see him if I was there.” 

Your parents would object?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ You will call on him again?” 

If I can.” 

“ What will you do — ” Mrs. Howard suddenly 
bit her lip and was silent. 

“ Why do you not finish the sentence, Mrs. 
Howard ?” 

“ I had better not.” 

No ; you know my whole history ; you know all, 
and I hope you will speak freely, for I have nothing 
to conceal.” 

“ I was going to ask what you would do if he was 
convicted.” 

“ Mrs. Howard, my heart belongs to Horace, and 
nothing, neither courts nor juries, can deprive him 
of it. I will be at his side during the trial and 
whisper words of love and encouragement as he 
stands at the criminal dock to receive his sentence, 
because I love him and know he is innocent.” 


104 


Mysterious Mr, Howard, 


That is noble, Flora,” said Mrs. Howard. 

She sat a long time gazing on the ground. Her 
face was grave and thoughtful, and she occasionally 
heaved a sigh. Flora was young, but she was a 
careful student of human nature, and knew that the 
young woman’s heart was heavy. Her offers of 
sympathy were genuine, for sometimes she saw her 
eyes growing moist, though tears never came. It 
seemed as if those fountains of grief were dried 
forever. Sympathy begets sympathy, and when she 
saw her poor friend looking so sad, she longed to do 
something to relieve her. She remembered what 
she had said about secrets and skeletons in the 
closet, and knew Mrs. Howard had some strange 
grief of her own. 

“ Mrs. Howard, when will your husband return ?” 

She started as if affrighted, and fixing her eyes 
on Flora, answered : 

“ I don’t know.” 

It must be very trying on you to have him away 
so much.” 

Yes — yes, but it is business. Business is the 
most exacting of tyrants, and we have to bow to 
its will.” 

They rose to return. 

The Howards were people without a past. One 
seldom is long with even a stranger or new acquaint- 
ance before, in some direct or . indirect way, one 
will learn something of his past. It was not so 
with the Howards. They talked of the present, of 
the future, of other people, but never said a word 
about themselves. 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


105 


Mrs. Howard became more talkative after awhile, 
and was decidedly profuse in her sympathy for 
Flora. Without advising” her to defy her parents, 
she encouraged her to be true to her lover. 

“ It is God who joins hearts,” she said, “and God 
never makes a mistake. Be sure, however, that you 
really love the man before you give him your heart. 
Be sure that it is God that says, ' Thou art his and 
he is thine.’ ” 

“ Let us return, Mrs. Howard,” sighed Flora. 

Neither the walk nor the conversation had given 
relief to her overburdened soul. 

“ Certainly, dear, if you wish it.” 

They were slowly returning, when a man, dressed 
in the garb of a cattle drover, with spurs on his 
boot-heels and a long linen ulster for a coat, sud- 
denly stepped into the road and said : 

“ Mrs. Howard !” 

“ Wait a moment. I must speak to him,” said 
Mrs. Howard, turning deathly pale. 

“ Do you know him?” 

She made no answer, but hurried to where the 
man stood. They exchanged a few words, in a 
tone too low for her to hear what they said, but she 
saw the stranger slip a note into Mrs. Howard’s 
hand, and the lady, putting it in her pocket, came 
slowly back to where Flora stood, lost in wonder at 
the strange meeting. 

“ Who is he?” she asked. 

“ ’Sh ! Don’t ask. It is a friend with news from 
Mr. Howard. All is well.” 

“ I would to Heaven I could say as much.” 


io6 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


“ Flora, keep quiet and say nothing of what you 
have seen, and perhaps my husband and I can do 
something for your lover.” 

“ Oh ! can you ? Can you, Mrs. Howard ?” 

“ There, don’t. Be silent as the grave. We are 
working now, and will do all in our power.” 

They returned to the house. 


CHAPTER XI. 

THE TRAIN ROBBERY. 

Sometimes in a fit of desperation a man will do 
a thing which he will repent a whole lifetime. A 
moment of folly, passion, or carelessness may bear 
evil fruit forever. 

Arthur Westfall was not a natural villain. He 
had never entertained any romantic notions of a 
highwayman. A brigand’s career had no charms 
for him. He became one without hardly realizing 
the step he was taking. For several days after 
meeting the stranger at the restaurant he lived in 
one of the cheap hotels in Kansas. City in a back 
room. Here he met several men who he was told 
were his pals. They were a coarse, brutal class of 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


107 


fellows, the outgrowth of the war, composing all 
the evil elements of society which had come to the 
surface during the great struggle and social up- 
heaval in Missouri. Their language was coarse ; 
they were, save one or two, vulgar, desperate vil- 
lains, from whom one of refined tastes would 
shrink. 

After a few days in the city they went into the 
country several miles away, to a neighborhood 
called Crackerneck, where they lodged at the house 
of a farmer, evidently no better than they. .There 
were many strange visitors at the house while 
Arthur and Jackson remained there, and there was 
much whispering and consulting, very little of 
which the new recruit could understand. 

A reckless indifference had taken possession of 
Arthur. He felt that the world had wronged him, 
and that he was justified in taking revenge. He 
was Jn a desperate situation, and unless some per- 
son or event interposed to save him, would plunge 
into irretrievable ruin. One day he was told they 
must go. No intimation was given him where they 
were to go or what was the object of the journey. 
A fine horse, already saddled and bridled, was given 
him, and in company with a black-eyed, wiry, nerv- 
ous fellow with sharp features who answered to the 
name of Jim, he set forth one afternoon. 

When they met people Jim did the talking, Ar- 
thur seldom uttering a word. That journey and 
the events following were ever to him like some 
terrible nightmare. His conscience smote him, and 
try as he would, he could not forget that terrible 


io8 Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


scene. The people who had been wronged were 
ever before him. 

They met the other members of the band, eight 
or ten in number, at a rendezvous agreed upon, and 
there the chief and some of his confederates held a 
consultation. What the object of it was the new pal 
did not know, nor had he any idea of the conclusion 
that was reached. The horse he rode was no more 
a dumb slave to the will of others than he him- 
self. 

The chief at last rode up to his side, and said : 

Now, young man, you have some work before 
you to-night. That phiz is not a bad-looking one, 
but it had better not be seen, or it may get you into 
future trouble. Take this and cover it.” 

He handed Arthur a black mask, which he ad- 
justed over his face, while a shudder thrilled his 
frame, for he realized that he was about to engage 
in a desperate adventure that might end in death. 
His heart beat rapidly, his cheek grew alternately 
pale and red, between fear and shame. There is 
something grand and noble in a heroic death, when 
one dies in defense of loved ones or one’s country, 
but the death of an outlaw is cowardly and mean. 

He made a great effort to steel his nerves for the 
terrible ordeal. The chief of the banditti seemed 
to read his thoughts, and laying his hand on his 
arm, said : 

“ Arthur, you will be expected to take a hand in 
this. If you show the white feather, you know the 
consequence,” and he held to his view a revolver. 

We can’t have any cowards or shirks in our band.” 


Mysterious Mr, Howm'd. 


109 


“ What are you going to do ?” Arthur falteringly 
asked. 

“ Hold up a train,” was the answer, in a cool, in- 
different manner, telling more forcibly than words 
could have done of what the nerves of the chief 
were made. “ You shall share our toil and danger 
in this. I will assign you to the mail department.” 

Arthur bowed his head and was silent. 

The entire band was masked. The chief com- 
manded them to follow him, and they left the 
grove and galloped in silence over a long stretch of 
prairie until they came to what at first seemed a 
long, dark line drawn by a straight edge across the 
horizon. A nearer approach showed it to be a rail- 
road. 

There was no moon, but the stars shone from a 
cloudless sky, dimly lighting up the landscape. The 
banditti drew rein near the railroad, and Jackson, 
as the chief called himself, ordered them to dis- 
mount. 

- Bob— Ed.” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

Take the horses back on the hill and hold 
them.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

The two men designated as Bob and Ed took the 
horses and led them to the top of a slight elevation, 
where there was a small grove of scrub-oaks and 
hazel, in which they found excellent concealment. 

The chief then called to two of the largest and 
most desperate fellows in the band, and said : 

“You will look after the engineer and fireman.” 


I lO 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


Two more were told to attend to the express 
car. 

“ Have you your hammers and crowbars ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“You must knock in the door and force the agent 
to open his safe. You,” laying his hand ou Arthur’s 
arm, “will assist Jim and Bill to attend to the mail. 
Select out all the registered packages and such as 
seem of value. If he falters. Bill, shoot him down 
as you would a wolf.” 

This order was given as if the chief had a sus- 
picion that the new recruit was not entering heart 
and soul into the work. Arthur felt his indignation 
rising, and would have revolted then and there 
had he not known that death would immediately 
result. 

The chief went on : 

“ The remainder will help me with the passen- 
gers. Those who do up the mail and express must 
come and help us as soon as all valuable letters and 
packages have been secured.” 

Every man bowed in silence. 

Never was a more uncomely group assembled on 
desperate business than those with whom Arthur 
Westfall had cast his fortunes. He realized now 
that it would have been very much better to have 
tramped and starved. The world had been very 
unjust to him, but he had been more unjust to him- 
self. The great, dark prairie, the star-studded 
heavens, and the tall, dark forms with whose hair 
the night wind toyed, were to him a terrible night- 
mare. Was he to commit a crime, perhaps murder ? 


Mysterious Air. Howard. 


1 1 1 


; No, he was resolved to take no life, even though he 
! lost his own for not doing so. 

“ Jim, you and Bill had better take up a rail,” 
I said the chief. 

I “Are you goin’ ter ditch her?” 

I “Unless she stops at my signal.” 

I The men designated as Jim and Bill procured 
I some cross-ties and leaped down into the cut.' Soon 
’ the creaking sound of spikes being torn out of the 
wood was heard, the rail was loosened and thrown 
aside. 

“ Place * ties ’ on the track,” commanded the 
chief. 

It was soon done. Through the dim, uncertain 
light Arthur gazed at the obstruction and the 
loosened rail and thought of the hundreds of inno- 
cent people, even women and children, at that 
moment rushing to ruin and death. That obstruc- 
tion and yawning chasm seemed to him the inven- 
tions of a devil. He could in his imagination see 
the train thundering on at lightning speed, then a 
crash, the hiss of escaping steam, cries of the wounded 
and groans of the dying. He could stand it no 
longer, and though it might be at the risk of his 
life, he went to the chief, who was lighting his lan- 
tern, and said : 

“ Can I speak to you?” 

“ What do you want to say ?” 

“ Do you intend to wreck the train ?” 

“ That is owing to circumstances,” he answered. 

“ Will you signal it to stop?” 

“ Yes. But if they are fools enough to run on to 


I I 2 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


their own destruction, I can't help it. A place has 
been assigned you ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Go to it. The train will be here in a few min- 
utes.” 

The chief then took his place between the rails, 
his dark lantern, with the light turned off, in his 
hand. He looked like some grim monster, and as 
Arthur gazed at him he thought him a fit image to 
represent the prince of darkness. 

There was a dead silence. Anon there came a 
quivering sound on the startled night which 
seemed to thrill the shuddering air. The new re- 
cruit bent his ear near to the earth, and from out 
the faint murmur soon made out a heavy, rumbling 
roar. It was the thunder of the midnight express. 
He started, his heart stood still, and he would have 
fled had not his feet seemed rooted to the spot. 

On, steadily on, increasing in volume until the 
thunder of iron wheels became a steady roar, came 
the midnight express. Arthur saw the men as grim 
statues or demons from the infernal regions, ready 
to defy the on-coming monster, whose blazing eye, 
like a star of destiny, was seen over the distant 
hill. Then it disappeared around a curve, and the 
robbers still stood silent and unmoved. 

Arthur shook as if in an ague fit. His knees 
knocked together, and he scarcely could stand. The 
wild roar of the train increased every moment until 
the ground trembled and the steel rails sang. At 
last from around the curve the great headlight 
burst, dissipating darkness before it as it flew down 


Mysteriotis Mr. Howard. 1 1 3 


the grade toward the robbers, the loosened rail and 
the barricade. 

Why doesn’t he flash the signal light ?” thought 
Arthur. “ Has he changed his mind and deter- 
mined to let the train be ditched and the people 
killed ?” 

The train was coming at full speed and approach- 
ing frightfully near to the barricade. Arthur West- 
fall thought of the mangled bodies of innocent pas- 
sengers, and his soul grew sick. Though he knew 
it would cost him his life, he determined to make 
an effort to warn the on-coming train. There was 
no means of warning save to seize the lantern of 
the chief and flash a signal across the track. He 
was about to leap at him and tear the lantern from 
his hand — an effort that no doubt would have cost 
him his life — when that personage suddenly re- 
moved the slide and began waving the light across 
the track. 

Immediately there came on the air an ear-split- 
ting whistle, and the engineer threw on the air- 
brakes. The train began to slow up at once, but. a 
heavy train going at full speed down grade is not 
easily checked, and Arthur held his breath, lest it 
should yet rush over the barricade and be wrecked. 
The chief continued to wave his signal light, 
and the engineer sounded his whistle for down 
brakes. 

On, on and on it came— slower and slower, until 
the nose of the cowcatcher rested against the bar- 
ricade of cross-ties. The engineer, looking out of 
his cab, asked : 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


114 


“ What is the matter?” 

“Don’t ye see there is somethin’ on th’ track?” 
cried one of the masked banditti, coming near 
enough for the engineer to see that his face was 
masked, and that he carried a revolver in his hand. 

“ Robbers, Flaxie ! Train robbers !” yelled the 
engineer, seizing an iron poker and raising it to 
brain the masked man, who was coming to the 
cab. 

“ Hold ! Don’t ye try that !” shouted the outlaw, 
leveling a cocked pistol at the head of the engineer. 
“ The first man who lifts a finger dies!” 

The dangerous character of the Missouri outlaws 
was well known, and no one dared resist them. The 
engineer threw down his poker, and the fireman 
dropped the hammer he had seized. Two masked 
men leaped into the cab and bade the men sit with 
their backs together, tied their hands behind them 
and then bound them to each other. 

Arthur Westfall stood as one spellbound, while 
the heavy, clanging blows rang out on the night 
air, until the express-car door gave way with a 
crash. 

“ Don’t forget the work for you !” hissed a voice 
in the ear of the new recruit, and a heavy hand was 
laid on his shoulder and he was shoved toward the 
mail- oach. He entered it. His companions were 
already before him, and had seized a great bundle 
of letters, some of which were valuable, while the 
route agent cowered in, one corner before the dark 
muzzle of a revolver, which one of the bandits 
pointed at his head. 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 1 1 5 


“ Here, look out the registered letters from this 
pack, an’ be quick about it,” said Jim, thrusting a 
large bundle of letters into Arthur’s hand. 

He took the bundle mechanically and began look- 
ing them over. Great care was not to be expected 
in a new recruit, and perhaps the outlaw knew there 
were few valuable letters in the package when he 
handed it to him. The act of looking over the mail 
was purely mechanical on Arthur’s part, for his 
mind was not on the work in which he was engaged. 
At last his eye fell on a registered letter in the 
bunch, and he found himself staring at it. It was 
addressed to his uncle, George Weatherby, and had 
a Virginia postmark. He seized it as if it was an 
old acquaintance, a link that bound him between 
this life and perdition. After gazing carefully at 
the letter for awhile, he placed it in his pocket. 
Why he kept the letter, he did not know. The act 
was wholly mechanical on his part, and he could not 
have explained it had he tried. 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


1 16 


CHAPTER XIL 

THE INTERCEPTED LETTER. 

Are you in there ?” asked the chief, looking into 
the mail car. 

Arthur started at the sound of the terrible voice. 

“ Yes,” answered Jim and Bill. 

“ Then come and let us go through the passen- 
gers.” 

Arthur’s companions shoved him to the door, 
saying: 

“ Go on. Are you drunk ?”" ^ 

The man staggered to the door and reached the 
ground. The chief and two or three more went up 
by the side of the train toward the passenger 
coaches, and he followed them. They found the 
conductor and two or three trainmen standing near 
the first passenger coach, holding their hands 
above their heads, while a single bandit stood be- 
fore them with a pistol in each hand aimed at 
their breasts, threatening to shoot them down if 
they lifted a hand to resist. Three or four more 
of the outlaws were amusing themselves by firing 
pistol shots into the tops of the cars, and frighten- 
ing the passengers out of their wits. 

“ Did the new hand prove his worth ?” asked the 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 1 1 7 


bandit chief, as they hurried toward the passenger 
coaches. 

Yes,” returned one of the robbers, “ I gave him 
a bunch of letters, and he went at them like an old 
hand.” 

Good. We will now see what he can do at lift- 
ing purses.” 

They reached the first coach, and Jackson cried : 

“Up these steps, inside with you, and get to your 
work.” 

Despite the fact that the robbers were veterans 
in the business, they were, except the chief and one 
or two others, nervous and excited. 

The frightened, cowering passengers gave utter- 
ance to shrieks of dread as the banditti, armed and 
masked, entered the cars with oaths and threats. 
An occasional pistol shot whizzed through the roof 
or shattered the glass of one of the windows. Some 
of the more collected passengers were making 
frantic efforts to conceal money and valuables under 
their seats ; a few succeeded, but more failed. A 
perfect pandemonium reigned. The shrieks of 
frightened women, some of whom fainted, the cry- 
ing of children and men pleading for life and val- 
uables, mingled with the threats and oaths of the 
banditti, were enough to appall the stoutest hearts. 
One who has never witnessed such a scene can 
form but a poor conception of it, even from the 
description of the most gifted pen. 

In the parlor car, seated on a reclining chair, was 
a beautiful young lady of about eighteen summers. 
She was asleep when the train stopped. The sharp 


ii8 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


I 


report of pistols, mingled with crashing glass, roused i 
her, and she uttered a shriek of dread. 

“ What is the matter ? What does it mean ?” she i 
cried. 

A gentleman sitting near answered : 

“ The train is being robbed. We shall have them 
here soon.” 

A stunning report outside and the crash of the 
glass of the window near her caused her to shriek 
in fear. A splinter of glass had cut her white 
forehead, and the blood trickled from the slight 
wound. She grew faint and sick for a moment, but ! 
she was a sensible young woman, and placing her ; 
hand to her forehead, discovered that the wound i 
was trifling. At this moment a tall masked man 
leaped in at the front door. He had a revolver in 
each hand, and in a terrible voice cried : 

“ Down ! Down, all of you ! I will blow the head ' 
off any one who dares resist !” 

There was a general howling, shrieking and 
efforts to climb over one another, like frightened ’ 
sheep when a wolf enters the fold. 

“ Oh, spare me !” 

“ Pray don’t kill us !” 

“ Go away, Mr. Robber, and you may have all I 
possess !” 

The fear of some was so highly ridiculous as to be 
amusing. Some were on their knees, praying, as if 
they expected this was the last moment on earth 
for them, while the tall train-robber, marching 
down the aisle, continued to shout, in a voice of 
thunder : 


Mysterious Air. Howard. 


9 


'‘Down — down, all! I will put a bullet through 
the first that dares lift a hand ! Here, fork over 
your money, jewels an’ sich little valuables 1 Git 
’em ready, th’ chief will be in soon, an’ he will shoot 
every man who hain’t forked over lively!” 

Right and left he began collecting money, jewels 
and watches, which he put into his capacious coat- 
pockets. At last he came to the young lady who 
had been wounded by the splinter of glass and sat 
holding a silk handkerchief to her face. A single 
glance at her rich travelling costume and costly 
jewels told him that she was the child of wealthy 
parents. 

“ Here, Miss, hand over them gewgaws in short 
order !” 

“ What do you mean?” she asked in a voice won- 
derfully sweet, though it quivered with fright. 

“ I mean yer money ur yer life !” shouted the 
robber. “ Don’t ye understand that ?” 

She drew a richly jeweled purse, well filled, and 
gave it to him. 

“ Now yer watch an’ chain.” 

They were costly and beautiful, and yet she 
parted with them. 

“ Now that air diamond ring,” growled the 
robber. 

“Sir, sir!” she stammered. “That is a present 
from my father.” 

“Don’t keer who give it ter ye ; I want et, an’ 1 
am goin’ t’ hev et ! Stop yer snifflin’ an’ hand et 
over !” 

She removed the ring from her finger and gave 


1 20 


Afys^er/oMS Mr, Howard, 


it to him. His covetous eyes glared at the pretty 
face, and he saw two sparkling gems, one on each 
side of it, dangling from her ears. 

“ Here, gal, I want them ar’ earrings. I know 
diamiinds when I see ’em, an’ them ar’ wuth a 
fortun’.” 

“ I can’t get them out of my ears,” she answered 
in a voice that trembled. 

“ Yes, ye kin.” 

“ Indeed, I cannot ; the hook is pressed fast.” 

“Then I kin.” 

“ Please, sir, do not touch me,” pleaded the beau- 
tiful girl, holding up one hand in an entreating man- 
ner. “ I would really take them out if it could be 
done.” 

“ Look here, gal, I ain’t one to stand any non- 
sense ! Now take ’em out !” 

“ 1 cannot without tearing my ears.” 

“Then tear ’em! I’m goin’ to hev them dia- 
munds !” 

“ Spare me, please, sir,” pleaded the girl, tears for 
the first time coming to her eyes at thought of 
being mutilated and disfigured for life. She knew 
enough of the Missouri outlaws to know that this 
was no idle threat. 

The brutal bandit stuck his pistol in his belt and 
drew a long, keen-bladed knife, and, with a terrible 
oath, swore he would have those earrings if he had 
to cut off the ears to get them. The frightened 
girl wept and implored, and made several efforts to 
remove them, but discovered that it was impossi- 
ble ; and as the horrible thought of being mutilated 


Mysteriotis Mr. Howard. 1 2 1 


came over her she turned her tearful face on the 
masked man and pleaded : 

“ Oh, sir, please don’t ! Spare me ! I cannot get 
them out !” 

“ Then I kin !” roared the bandit, making his 
assertion more terrible by an oath, as he flourished 
his flashing blade above her head. “ I will cut ’em 
out, ur cut yer ears off !” 

She began to shriek for help, but he seized one of 
her ears and was about to draw the keen edge of 
his knife across the lobe and let the jewel out, 
when a strong hand seized him by the throat and 
hurled him down on his face in the aisle. It was 
not one of the passengers, but a man whose face 
was masked like his own. 

“ Dare touch her, and I will kill you !” said the 
low, determined but manly voice of the masked out- 
law, and the polished barrel of a revolver glittered 
in the light of the car lamps. So desperate, bold 
and determined was the act that the outlaw was 
cowed and overawed. He rose to his feet and hur- 
ried to another car. The young lady whom he had 
saved from a horrid mutilation sprang toward her 
masked preserver, and seizing his arm, cried : 

I thank you, sir ! May heaven bless you !” 

‘‘Will you trust me?” he asked in a voice low 
and sweet as any hero in fiction. 

“Yes.” 

“ Then by all the manhood left me I swear they 
shall not harm a hair of your head !” 

“ I believe you.” 

The masked outlaw gazed on that face radiant in 


1 2 2 


Mysterious Mr, Howard, 


all its beauty, despite its unnatural paleness, and in 
a low, manly voice asked : 

“ Did he hurt you ?” 

“ No.” 

“ But there is a speck of blood on your brow.” 

“ A slight cut from a piece of glass.” 

“ I will kill him for it,” he said, taking a small 
white cambric handkerchief from the seat and 
wiping the blood that oozed from her face. 

“ No, no. He did not do it.” 

He gazed a moment on that fair, sweet, innocent 
face, and seemed transported to the land of angels. 
Holding the small cambric handkerchief in his 
hand, stained with the blood from the wound, he 
listened to the gentle voice murmuring heartfelt 
thanks. 

But have you not incurred the hate of that 
man — the whole band, perhaps ?” she said. “ May- 
be they will take your life for this.” 

“ It will be a glorious death to die in the defense 
of the innocent,” he answered. She fixed her great 
dark eyes on him in surprise. He gazed on the 
handkerchief which he held in his hand and said : 

I have one favor to ask of you.” 

“What?” 

“ Give me this.” 

“ It is a strange request ; but you can have it, and 
welcome.” 

Two or three masked men came hurriedly 
through the car, picking up such valuables as the 
others had left. The beautiful girl shrank from 
them, and actually clung to her preserver, who, 


Mysteriotis M r. Howard. 


123 


forgetful that he was one of the same desperate 
band, whispered words of encouragement in her 
ears. 

He had only time to glance at that marvelously* 
lovely face, to gaze for a moment into the liquid 
depths of those soft dark eyes, then the shrill 
whistle of the chief sounded on the air, and his 
deep, stentorian voice was heard saying : 

“ To horse and away !” 

“Farewell!” he whispered to the beautiful un- 
known. 

“ May God bless and save you !” 

The tender look which accompanied this ejacula- 
tion went down to the heart of Arthur Westfall to 
remain to his dying day. Often on his long night 
rides he found himself dreaming strange dreams, 
from which he would awake to say : 

“ No, no — how foolish ! I am a poor outcast, and 
worse, a robber with a price set on my head. It is 
folly ; it is madness, but it is pleasant. She must 
be the daughter of some wealthy man, some great 
man, and can never be anything to me, nor I to her.” 

Strange to say, Arthur was never even rebuked 
by the banditti for saving the young lady. The 
band made a halt that night and all next day in a 
dense wood. Arthur’s degradation seemed to be- 
come greater every hour of his life, until he actually 
came to despise himself. Sometimes he tried to 
find some excuse for his career, but there was none. 

“ There can never be an excuse for crime,” he 
thought. “ Death by starvation is sweet compared 
with the most luxurious life of an outlaw.” 


24 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


As was their custom after a depredation, the 
robbers disbanded and scattered among their 
friends. Arthur and two others went to the home 
of a farmer named Thrailkill, who kept them con- 
cealed, while the officers were scouring the coun- 
try in search of the train robbers. Half a dozen 
suspicious persons were arrested and held in jail 
‘a while, but for lack of proof discharged, and the 
affair died away. 

A week after the robbery, Arthur Westfall, in 
his room in the attic of the farmhouse, for the 
hundredth time took the delicate handkerchief 
from his pocket to gaze on it, and dream over it. 
In doing so this time, his finger tips came in con- 
tact with the letter he had taken from the mail car 
on that night of the robbery, and which he had en- 
tirely forgotten. He drew it from his pocket and 
gazed on it with amazement. Despite all our 
philosophy, we are subject to strange influences 
and circumstances that seem to shape our destiny. 
Arthur found himself possessed of an irresistible 
desire to read his uncle’s letter, but he could have 
given no valid reason fordoing so. He opened the 
envelope and took the letter from it. Spreading 
it out before him, he proceeded to read, and as he 
read, amazement was depicted on every lineament 
of his features. The letter was as follows : 

“ Law Office of Allen Cravensford, 'i 
“ Richmond, Va., Aug. 17, 1879. I 
“Mr. George Weatherby — 

Dear Sir: In answer to your last in regard to the estate 
of your nephew, Arthur Westfall, I will state that it is ready to 
be turned over to him at any time. In cash, bank stocks at par 


Mysterioiis Mr . . Howard. 


125 


value and unquestioned securities, it will reach quite half a 
million dollars. Of course, if your nephew was dead, you would 
be his only heir. If it is true, as you say, that he has been 
guilty of robbing his employer, Mark Hunt, and has been com- 
pelled to fly the country, and can be kept away seven years with- 
out being heard from, it would justify you in appropriating the 
money yourself. Should Westfall, however, learn that he is heir 
to such a vast fortune, he might return, disprove the charge and 
make us a great deal of trouble. You had better keep the 
matter a profound secret until Westfall is well out of the country, 
and then you can take charge of the estate in perfect safety. I 
accept the terms you offer me, and will help you all I can for the 
sum agreed upon. But this is risky business for both of us, and 
if we should be discovered it might place both of us behind 
prison bars ; so destroy this letter, so there may not be any 
record testimony against us. Write me at once and tell me 
where Westfall is, and if there is any likelihood of disposing of 
him for good. Yours truly, 

“Allen Cravensford.” 

Starting up, Arthur struck his forehead with the 
palm of his hand, and said : 

“ Heavens ! I am the victim of an outrageous 
plot. I will go at once and lay this letter before 
some lawyer and — ” 

He paused. No, he dared not tell a lawyer that 
he was Arthur Westfall. That name was connected 
with crime, and an investigation might trace him to 
the last train robbery. He was powerless to claim 
his own or punish those who had, with such con- 
summate art, planned his ruin. 

Mechanically he drew the delicate handkerchief 
from his bosom, pressed it to his lips for the thou- 
sandth time, while his mind wandered to the soft, 
dark-eyed owner. He was heir to a fortune, which, 


126 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


if there was no stain upon his name, might make it 
possible for him to win her. But the awful reality 
returned ; he was a robber, with a price set upon his 
head. He groaned and sank into a chair. 


CHAPTER XIIL 
cater’s revelation. 

The forest about the deserted village of Newburg 
was large. The trees were oak and hickory, tall, 
broad-armed, proud of their strength and age and 
wealth of leaves. Every tree, like those of the 
‘‘ shadie wood ” in which Lady Una wandered with 
the Red-Cross Knight, was “ yclad with summer’s 
pride.” Not content with this, each forest monarch 
was decked out in graceful gray moss, which the 
languid summer breeze scarcely stirred that hot 
August day. A zig-zag fence, ten rails high, 
“ staked and ridered,” that had once run along the 
road leading to Newburg in its prosperous days, in- 
closing a vast area of forest, was out of repair. The 
rails were decayed in some places, and had been 
thrown down in others. Sometimes great gaps 
were to be seen, where the absence of the fence was 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


127 


accentuated by a vigorous growth of sassafras and 
pokorberry. From one of these gaps, where the 
growth had been prevented by the tread of many 
feet, a broad path led to the center of the wood, 
where the negro church was to be found. A rude 
structure it was, built of unplaned pine planks set 
upright. The windows were exactly what the 
primary meaning of the word would indicate — 
wind-doors ; for being of wood, no light could pene- 
trate them, save where some knot permitted it to 
assume the semblance of a firey ball. 

A rude paling had once inclosed the church, but 
now only a stray plank lying here and there among 
the bramble bushes and “ jimpson weeds ” told of 
its existence ; and the cattle wandered not only 
through the woods but up to the very door of the 
tabernacle. 

On one occasion, just about twilight, an old muley 
cow poked her head into one of the doors that hung 
half open on rusty hinges, and lowed so mournfully 
that little black Sam, who had run away from home 
to escape a whipping by allowing his mother’s 
wrath to subside, was so frightened that he crouched 
down closer behind the rude pulpit and trembled 
with fright. Not that he was afraid of the cow. 
Oh, no ! There was the terrible possibility that 
this lugubrious sound coming from the church 
might awake the “ hants,” and the “ sperits ” might 
come flocking from their usual stalking-ground, the 
graveyard back of the building. Scarcely had the 
echo of the sound died away, when footsteps were 
heard. Sam raised his head, and in the dim 


128 Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


twilight saw the form of a man entering the 
door. 

It was too dark for his features to be made out, 
and all that Sam knew of him was that he was tall 
and had a remarkable resemblance to the descrip- 
tion that had been given him of the guerrilla who 
had been hanged to the big oak down under the 
hill. There was a ghastliness about his features as 
seen in twilight, and the runaway negro boy was 
persuaded that he saw bright tips of blue and phos- 
phorescent light, such as ghosts are supposed to emit 
from their materialized bodies. 

“ The hour has almost come !” said the ghost, in a 
low, hollow and almost sepulchral tone. 

Sam could endure no more, and made a frantic 
leap for the window at the rear. He struck the 
hard shutter with a crash, and fell back like a 
wounded bat. Next moment he was seized by a 
strong hand, and hurled from the door of the old 
house with a violence that almost jolted the breath 
from his body. 

He was on his feet and running before he was 
hardly conscious of the fact. Down the path he 
flew to the gap in the fence, half a mile from Uncle 
Reuben’s Newburg tavern. Some one was coming 
in at the gap just as he was going out, and as both 
were travelling on the same line a collision was in- 
evitable. Sam ran plump into some one, and had 
his ears boxed for his carelessness. 

“ Sam Scarce, wut ye mean a-runnin’ inter me 
dat way ?” cried a voice well known to the fright- 
ened boy. 


DARE TOUCH HER, AND I WILL KILL YOU !” SAID THE MASKED OUTLAW. 












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Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


129 


“ Dat you, Unc Cater? Dat you ! Oh, golly, doan 
ye let um git me ! Doan ye let um git me !” 

“ Who goan t’ git ye ? Whut ye mean, ye no-ac- 
count nigger ?” 

“ De ghosts — de ’ hants,’ Unc Cater ! Dey atter 
me right now !” 

“ Shet up yo’ foolishness, chile, an’ tole me whut 
de matter wid ye.” 

The boy was so frightened that it was some ti^e 
before Uncle Cater could get him sufficiently 
quieted to tell his story. It was a terrible story of 
a specter entering the church and seizing him by 
the shoulders and hurling him from the building 
with such force that his neck was broken. Uncle 
Cater’s blood ran cold, and he could feel his 
white wool almost start on end. He gave Sam a 
lecture on disobedience to his mother and on “ des- 
ecratin’ de house o’ de Lawd ” by hiding in it to es- 
cape a justly deserved whipping, and sent him 
home, while he returned to the tavern. The old 
darky kept the story to himself, but often, when 
alone, he pondered over the remarkable adventure 
of Sam at the church. 

Three evenings later, just at dusk, Mr. Howard 
came to the tavern and let Cater take his horse to 
the barn. He was quiet, grave and mysterious as 
ever. He appeared with others at supper, how- 
ever, and made some remark about perplexing 
business matters. As he was going, with his wife 
and children, to their room, he met Flora on the 
landing, and remarked that she was too sad for a 
young girl. 


130 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


“ At your time of life, you ought to be happy, 
my child.” 

“ Sorrow is no respecter of persons or age, Mr. 
Howard.” 

After a grave and thoughtful silence for a mo- 
ment, he answered : 

“ You are right. Even childhood has its vexa- 
tions and annoyances. We commence life crying 
over a broken toy, and we end it regretting we can’t 
iftve our own way. After all, the sage is only a 
grown-up child.” 

'‘Do we suffer more for ourselves than for 
others ?” 

With a curious smile, he answered : 

“ Miss Wells, it seems to me that half the world 
is born to make themselves miserable, and the other 
half is born to be miserable from sympathy.” 

“ I believe it. Will you remain long?” 

“ No ; I leave in the morning.” 

“You are gone a great deal.” 

“Yes, it is business — vexatious business.” His 
wife had gone to her room, and he started to follow 
her, but when he reached the door, suddenly paused, 
and, returning to where Flora stood at the hall 
window, said : “ Wife tells me you have a gjreat 

sorrow — that — that a young man whom you re- 
spect — and — and love has been accused of a 
crime?” 

“ She has told you all ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Mr. Howard, she said you might help him. 
Have you any influence ?” 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 13 1 


I cannot say that I have, I know but few peo- 
ple in power.” 

“ He is innocent, Mr. Howard. I know he is 
innocent.” 

“ Many, many people are wrongfully accused. 
Many people who are innocent are made to^ suffer 
for the offenses of the guilty.” 

“ But they cannot convict him. You will not let 
him be convicted, will you, for you must know he 
is innocent ?” 

He started back and fixed his steel-blue eyes on 
her face, and asked : 

How can I know anything of his guilt or inno- 
cence ?” 

“ But to simply gaze on his face is to find him in- 
nocent.” 

“ But, my dear young lady, I have never had an 
opportunity of gazing on his face.” 

“True, I had forgotten that, Mr. Howard. But 
if you knew him as I know him, you would know 
that he tells the truth.” 

The strange man bowed his head, and said : 

“ Well, I am convinced that your lover is innocent, 
though I never saw him. You have interested me 
in him, and if I can do anything for him I shall.” 

He then bade her good night, and went to his 
room. Flora then retired, and, having passed so 
many sleepless nights, was soon in the land of slum--' 
bers. 

Old Cater that night had taken his dogs and 
gone to the wood to hunt for coons and opossums. 
The sky was clear, and the moon still shone brightly 


132 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


on his return. He had caught three opossums and 
one coon, and, quite elated at his success, paused 
near the old shed to gaze on his prizes with ad- 
miration. 

“ Dem ’s fine, fat fellows,” said the old man. 
“ Wish de fur war good, but dis hain’t no season fer 
fur. Aggy, she roast um.” Feeling the ribs of one 
opossum, he added : “ Golly, ain’t he a fat un ! Why, 
him ez fat ez him kin be ; make a good roast. Now, 
ef we only had some sweet mataters, wouldn’t he 
go good — ” 

Some one stirring at the house caused the old 
man to step within the shadow of the wood-shed, 
and whisper: 

“ Who dat cornin’ ? Golly, it am dat Mr. Howard. 
Gwine away ag’in, iz he? Sed he war gwine ter 
stay all night, when he come.” 

Mr. Howard did not go near the barn where his 
horse was, but walked briskly up the road. The old 
negro’s curiosity, excited by the mystery which had 
enveloped Mr. Howard all along, prompted him to 
throw his game on the shed and follow him. 

The mysterious .man went hurriedly up the road 
to the gap in the fence before alluded to, and then 
turned down the beaten path toward the church. 

“Fore de La wd, what am he gwine dar fur?” 
asked old Cater. 

' He recalled the story of little Sam Scarce, and 
paused for a moment with his eyes rolled up to 
heaven and his hands clasped. 

‘ He don’t know ’bout de ‘hants,’” the negro 
whispered. 


Mysterious Mr, Howard, 


133 


His first impulse was to run after the man and 
call him back, but he had come to regard Mr. 
Howard with a sort ot superstition, no doubt from 
the many mysteries by which he was surrounded, 
and he had a little dread of accosting him in the 
darkness. Spellbound the old darky stood for 
several minutes. He was about to turn and go 
home, when curiosity to know if the man really 
dealt in the black art prompted the old darky to 
make his way to the church by a nearer path, of 
which Mr. Howard knew nothing, and he reached 
it a few moments ahead of him. 

But the church was already occupied when the 
negro came to it. Crouching at the north window. 
Uncle Cater distinctly heard voices within. They 
spoke in low, eyen tones, and he could only catch a 
word now and then of what was said. 

“ It ’s about time,” said one. 

The old darky’s hair almost stood on end. Time 
for what ? he asked himself. He was inclined to 
turn and fly for life, but he overcame that inclina- 
tion and listened to more that was said. Those 
voices were too substantial for ghosts, and he found 
curiosity overcoming his fear. Moments crept by 
on leaden wings. A cold, icy breeze, seeming a blast 
of death from the graveyard near, came over the 
old darky, and for a moment almost froze the mar- 
row in his bones. His teeth chattered, his knees 
knocked together, his breath came in fitful gasps, 
while his heart thumped so wildly that he feared 
those inside must hear it. 

After a moment he heard the sound of footsteps 


134 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


coming toward the cabin. He crouched still closer 
to the ground. There was a low whistle, followed 
by another, then some one entered. He could have 
sworn, to his dying day, that the newcomer was the 
mysterious Mr. Howard. 

“ Well, what news?” he asked. 

“All is well,” answered one of the strangers in 
the old church. Then followed a short silence, 
broken by one of the men saying : 

“ Here is a message for you.” 

“ I will read it when I get to the light.” 

“ What shall we do?” 

“Return.” 

“ Is that all ?” 

“ I will see you soon.” 

Then came the sounds of persons leaving the 
church. Two dark forms stole away among the 
trees, mounted horses and galloped away. A few 
moments later a solitary form stole back to the 
broad, beaten path leading to the road to Newburg 
tavern, which Uncle Cater declared was Mr. How- 
ard. Next day Mr. Howard took his departure on 
one of his mysterious journe3^s. 

Cater took Uncle Reuben behind the wood-shed 
and in an awe-inspiring voice began : 

“ Unc Rube, dat man am might' curious.” 

“ Why?” 

“ He goes ob nights to de churchyard ’\^har de 
ghosts air an’ call ’em up. I seed him go las’ night 
to the church myse’f, an’ sho’s yo ’s white man, Unc 
Rube, dar war two odder men wid him, an’ dey talk 
in whispers like, an’ den all go away.” 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


135 


Uncle Reuben thrust his hand in his trousers 
pocket, drew out a handful of tobacco and proceeded 
to light his pipe, while Cater continued his marvel- 
ous stretches of the imagination. When he had 
finished. Uncle Reuben said : 

“ Do you know what I think. Cater?” 

“ No ; 'deed I don’t, Unc Rube.” 

“ I think you are an infernal liar.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE father’s threat. 

If Uncle Reuben thought there was anything in 
old Cater’s story, he kept his opinion to himself. 
Uncle Reuben sat in his large arm-chair, well worn 
with age and use, smoked his pipe and said 
nothing. He even admonished Cater to keep his 
mouth shut. 

The days and weeks passed slowly on, and Flora 
was still at the home of Uncle Reuben. The sum- 
mer was past and golden autumn had come. 
Autumn leaves of crimson and gold were to be 
seen in great abundance. The forests and prairies 
of Missouri still presented a scene of wondrous 


136 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


beauty. The days were still delightfully warm, but 
the evenings were growing cool enough for fire in 
the broad-mouthed fireplaces, and Uncle Reuben 
suggested that it would soon be time for the hunters 
to come. 

To one unaccustomed to such a treat, the spend- 
ing of an autumn evening at any of the few re- 
maining typical old taverns of the backwoods of 
Missouri would be like a revelation. There are, in- 
deed, few left of these rare old gathering-places of 
hunters, wood-choppers, loggers and bark-peelers, 
where the big hickory “ chunks” snap and crack in 
the wide, stone fireplaces, the warm reflection of 
whose flame, that dances fitfully at the sooty open- 
ing of the broad chimney, plays hide-and-seek with 
the shadows here and there and everywhere about 
the low-walled bedroom, while the old iron tea- 
kettle, hanging on its grimy crane, sings cheerily, 
and the measure of its song sets the clouds of steam 
to playing elfishly about it ; where some superannu- 
ated hound, rotund and wheezy, dozes and dreams in 
indolent contentment on the hearth ; where the sons 
of the forest, some young and lusty, some old and 
grizzled, but all picturesque in garb and tongue, 
lounge on bearskin-covered benches or chairs of stout 
and homely make, or loll in a corner on a tumbled 
couch of buffalo robes, heirlooms all, once the com- 
monest and cheapest of furry comforts, now the 
rarest and most costly ; where the red-faced, well- 
fed landlord passes to his rude customers their 
favorite rum and tansy or gin and sugar through 
the opening in the stout wooden grating between 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


137 


the high oaken bar and the ceiling, just as his father 
and his grandfather had done before him, in the 
days when the stage-coaches rattled their lumber- 
ing way over the stony turnpike, and the blasts 
from the driver’s horn sent the startled echoes 
flying over the hill. There were, even at the time 
of our story, but few, indeed, of these rare old 
hostelries. In all the great State of Missouri one 
might, perhaps, have counted all that remained on 
the fingers of one hand, and those that remained 
were, like Uncle Reuben’s, in a moribund condi- 
tion. They were the relics of another age. They 
stood, as some to this day stand, as monuments to 
the memory of a unique race of landlords, and as 
reminders of a rude but hearty hospitality, such as 
will never come again. 

Among all these old-time landlords perhaps none 
held out so long against the inroads of modern 
innovations as Uncle Reuben. He clung to his old 
house and the deserted village, hoping that travel 
and business would again set its current toward 
Newburg. 

Occasionally in autumn the deer-hunters came, 
but not in large parties, as they used to do, and the 
old stage-horn was never heard among the hills 
and forests about the town. No hunter had yet 
come, but Uncle Reuben lived in constant expecta- 
tion of a party. He used to sit on his long porch 
of an afternoon and watch the sun descend beyond 
the great hills and forests of the west, and ask him- 
self if they would not come next day, next week or 
next month. Often, when he had smoked his pipe 


138 Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


out, he layback in his chair and dozed and dreamed 
of the wheels of the stage-coach and the sound of 
the horn echoing among the hills. But only in 
memory, dreams and imagination would that sweet 
music ever fall upon his ear again. 

One evening, as he sat in his accustomed seat, a 
vehicle came down the road from Rushville. He 
got upon his feet, and as it became evident that it 
was coming to his house, he went to the picket 
fence which divided the yard from the forest. It was 
near enough for him to recognize it as one of the 
carriages of McCoy’s livery barn at Rushville. The 
vehicle drove up to the gate and stopped, and the 
driver said : 

“ Here ’s the place.” 

A man got out, and asked : 

“ What ’s your bill ?” 

“ Oh, ye kin settle that when I take ye back. 
When d’ ye want me t’ come after ye ?” 

“ In time to catch the train to-morrow night.” 

“ All right.” 

The coachman then turned his vehicle about and 
drove away to Rushville, leaving the passenger, 
with a small-sized travelling-bag in his hand, stand- 
ing near the stiles. He waited until the vehicle 
had started, and then approaching Uncle Reuben, 
took his hand, and said : 

“ How are you. Uncle Reuben?” 

'‘ Ain’t this Jordan Wells?” 

“ Yes. How are you ?” 

“ Well. When did ye leave home ?” asked Uncle 
Reuben, showing the way into a large front room. 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


139 


“ I left yesterday.” 

“ How ’d ye leave all the folks ?” 

“Well.” 

“ Set down,” and he pushed one of the bearskin 
chairs toward Mr. Wells. 

The merchant’s face was very grave and firm, 
while there was a deep, sullen flash of Are from his 
eyes which spoke of a conflagration within. He 
threw aside a light topcoat, took off his hat, and 
threw himself in the proffered seat, and glared into 
the Are. 

Uncle Reuben, standing in a corner where the 
ruddy glow of the leaping firelight imparted a 
healthier complexion than was natural, thrust his 
hand into his pocket, drew out a handful of tobacco, 
and proceeded to light his pipe. 

After glowering at the fire for several minutes, 
Mr. Wells asked : 

“ Where is Flora?” 

“Up in her room. D’ ye want t’ see her?” 

^ “ After awhile,” he answered, with the air of one 
who had a disagreeable task which he wished to de- 
lay as long as possible. 

“ Had yer, supper?” 

“ No.” 

“ I ’ll tell Rachel an’ Aggy t' set ye some. We ’ve 
all eat long ago.” 

“ Never mind me,” growled the merchant, still 
looking at the fire. 

Uncle Reuben, who was a little deaf, did not 
catch the last sentence. He went to the kitchen, 
where he found Aunt Rachel and the ever-faithful 


140 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


Aggy washing the dishes and doing up the evening 
work. 

“ Rachel, Jordan Wells has come,” said Uncle 
Reuben. 

“ Jordan Wells !” cried Aunt Rachel, dropping 
her dishcloth and raising her hands. 

“ Yes ; and he wants his supper.’' 

“ Fix his supper, Aggy,” said Aunt Rachel. Then, 
turning to her husband, she added : “ Now, Rube, 
Jordan’s heard o’ that visit.” 

“ I don’t keer ’f he has.” 

“ I bet he ’s come here t’ give Flora fits.” 

‘‘ We couldn’t help it. Don’t believe she ort t’ 
gone, though.” 

“ Now I don’t know so well about that,” declared 
Aunt Rachel. “ I believe I ’ll just give Jordan a 
piece o’ my mind.” 

“ Better ’tend t’ yer own business.” 

Well, no, I don’t know but that it ’s my business 
t’ look after Flora while she is here, an’ if Jordan 
Wells is treatin’ her wrong, he ort t’ be told of 
it.” 

“ How ’s he treatin’ her wrong ?” 

“Why, when he saw that th’ poor young things 
loved each other, instead o’ sendin’ her off and dis- 
chargin’ him, he ort t’ a let ’em waited, an’ if they 
still loved each other when they had growed up, 
why, let ’em marry.” 

Uncle Reuben thought that it might have been 
some trouble to have got them to wait. There was 
a creak on the stairs, a breath of perfume, a whis- 
per of soft robe, sand Flora Wells glided into the 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 141 


kitchen. Her face was whiter than usual, and her 
eyes seemed starting- from their sockets. 

“ Aunt Rachel — Uncle Reuben !” she gasped. 

“ Mercy goodness, child, whatever is the matter 
o’ you?” cried Aunt Rachel. “Ye look ez if ye’d 
see ’d a ghost !” 

“ Has father come ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ I knew it. He intends to take me away. Uncle 
Reuben, don’t let him do it.” 

“ Don’t ye want t* go home ?” asked Aunt Rachel. 

“ No, no, I mUvSt not go !” 

She knew that if she went home there would be 
no more opportunity to see Horace, whom she had 
determined to stand by during his terrible trial. 

“ Flora, yer father won’t let ye stay,” remarked 
Uncle Reuben, diving his right hand deep into the 
pocket of his trousers for tobacco with which to 
replenish his pipe. 

“ He must let me stay. I don’t want to seem 
rebellious, but I will not go home.” 

“ Suppose he ’s come after ye ?” 

“ There must be some excuse. Persuade my 
father by some means to leave me here.” 

Aunt Rachel and Uncle Reuben exchanged 
significant glances. The shrewd wife at last said : 

“ Leave it all t’ me. I will try t’ manage him.” 

“ Will you make him let me stay ?” 

“ I will try. Now go back t’ yer room.” 

“ I must stay. I can’t go home now,” she declared, 
as she went back to her room. 

Supper was prepared for the traveller. Aunt 


142 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


Rachel saw that it was palatable and tempting in 
every particular. When she went to the great sit- 
ting-room to invite him in, she wiped her hands on 
her apron, smiled graciously, and said : 

“ Why, howdy, Jordan ? Who ’d ever a thought 
o’ seein’ you in Newburg? How ’s Susan an’ all th’ 
other folks?” 

“ They are pretty well, Rachel,” the merchant 
answered, with lowering brow. 

“ Come out t’ supper.” 

“ I am not very hungry.” 

“ Well, come and eat^ little anyway, and ye ’ll feel 
better by it. We ain’t got much, but I reckin ye kin 
put up a while with what we put up with all th’ time.” 

When he was seated at the table, she took a chair 
at his side and insist?ed on pouring his tea, keeping 
up a stream of talk all the time about his family 
and friends at home. Jordan Wells answered her 
questions, but showed no disposition to be com- 
municative. After supper was over, he asked for 
his daughter. 

“ She is up in her room,” said Aunt Rachel. 
“ Flora hain’t been very well, but I give her some 
yarb tea, an’ she ’s better. 1 ’m goin’ t’ keep it up 
fur a week ur two until she ’s entirely better.” 

“ Humph !” grunted Mr. Wells, in a rather dis- 
couraging manner. 

“ She wuz very low in sperits when she come, but 
I ’ll bring her out all right,” Aunt Rachel declared. 

The merchant pushed back his plate, and rising 
from the table, asked to be shown to his daughter’s 
room. 


Mysterious Mr, Howard, 


H3 


An artist could not have found a better model for 
a domesticated dryad than Flora, as she sat by the 
window gazing off into the'forest. The door opened, 
and she started up, saying : 

“ Father !” 

“ Sit down. Flora.” 

Her finst impulse to throw her arms about his 
neck and plead for mercy gave way to sullenness and 
rebellion. The cold, harsh manner of her father 
had roused all the stubbornness in her heart. He 
took a chair near her and said : 

“ Flora, you went to Standish ?” 

She made no answer. 

Did you think you could go without my know- 
ing it?” She made no answer, and the father’s 
wrath and indignation rising at her silence, he 
burst forth with : “ Flora, if you are determined to 
disgrace yourself and your family, I will disown 
you !” 

‘‘ Father, he is innocent.” 

“ Silence ! How do you know he is innocent ? 
Did not two reputable witnesses recognize him 
when his disguise fell off ? I know he is guilty, and 
if you persist in following the fortune of a common 
thief, I swear I will disown you !” 

She bowed her head and tears silently stole down 
her cheeks. The father, utterly unmoved by her 
sorrow, continued to upbraid her for going to Stand- 
ish, concluding his remarks* with a threat to lock 
her up if she repeated the act. 


144 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


CHAPTER XV, 

MR. MEEKER’S STRANGE INTERVIEW. 

General Hawley was away when Odin, the book- 
keeper, so suddenly and mysteriously left the city, 
and, on his return, Mr. Meeker assured him that 
everything would go on all right, and that he would 
attend to the books himself until a suitable person 
could be secured. 

“ But this is putting double duty on you,” said 
Mr. Hawley. 

“ I can do it. I must do it,” said Mr. Meeker. 

“ I could telegraph to St. Louis or Chicago for an 
expert — ” 

“ I assure you. General, that it is wholly unneces- 
sary.” 

‘‘ It would relieve you.” 

“ I would rather wait and select one that will ex- 
actly suit,” returned Meeker. 

“ Very well, if you prefer. I will leave the whole 
matter to you,” said General Hawley. 

“ Then it shall be attended to,” 

'‘It must be done “before the State funds ar- 
rive.” 

“ How soon do you expect them, General ?” 

“ Within two or three weeks. The treasurer has 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


45 


not decided yet when he will send them, but it can- 
not be longer than three weeks.” 

“ I will secure a suitable person before that 
time. Leave it to me, and it will be carefully at- 
tended to.” 

“ I know it. I know it. Meeker. I feel so con- 
fident of your honesty and ability that I do not 
have the least hesitation in intrusting everything 
to you.” 

“ Thank you. I assure you I shall not find it a 
burden.” 

When alone, Meeker said : 

“ If Bob Maddox doesn’t succeed in bringing about 
that interview, I am ruined. As a last resort I will 
make one more appeal to Grace. She has just re- 
turned from Chicago, and, I learn, was nearly 
frightened to death by the train robbers who held 
up the midnight express on which she travelled. 
Maybe the scare has opened her eyes to the neces- 
sity of having a protector. ' At any rate, I will 
make one appeal and see if there is any hope in 
that quarter.” 

The office boy was sent to Miss Grace Hawley 
with a note, saying that Mr. Meeker would call 
upon her that evening at eight. At the hour men- 
tioned he was at the Hawley mansion, and was 
ushered into the great parlor, where he amused 
himself gazing on the family ‘portraits on the wall 
until Miss Grace made her appearance. 

She was polite and courteous, as usual, but there 
was nothing in her manner that was the least en- 
couraging to Mr, Meeker’s hopes. He was a man 


146 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


of unbounded egotism and perseverance, however, 
and did not despair. He was prudent, cautious and 
scheming. 

“ I have not seen you since your thrilling adven- 
ture with the train robbers. Miss Hawley. I hope 
you have not suffered from the shock.” 

I was almost prostrated for a day or two,” she 
answered. “ One of the robbers, the tallest and 
most brutal of all the band, threatened to cut my 
earrings out of my ears because I could not unclasp 
the fastenings. But there is one noble man among 
them. He came to my rescue, knocked the rascal 
down and protected me from further insult — I 
fear at the cost of his own life.” 

‘‘ He could not have been a noble fellow, or he 
would not have been with such a gang,” said 
Meeker. 

“ He must have some excuse for being with 
them. He is a brave, noble man, and I would give 
much to know his history.” 

“ Young and handsome ?” asked Meeker, with a 
little sarcasm in his voice. 

“ I did not see his face, for it was covered with a 
mask.” 

Well, Miss Hawley, I am glad he saved those 
pretty ears. You could not have spared them. I 
hope this adventure will teach you a lesson. You 
must have a protector with you all the time— one 
who will guard you not only from masked men but 
all the ills which the weaker sex are exposed to.” 
Then, with consummate art, he gradually neared 
the subject which had brought him to the mansion, 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


H7 


concluding with a desire for her to reconsider her 
answer to his proposal. She quickly told him she 
would not. 

^ “ Miss Hawley, I fear you do not understand the 

situation.” ^ 

“ I perfectly understand it,” she answered ; “ and 
knowing that I can never love you sufficiently to be- 
come your wife, I must decline to discuss the matter.” 

Appealing to her was in vain, and when he began 
to make covert threats, he at once saw that he was 
on dangerous ground, so he bade her adieu and took 
his departure. 

“ Something must be done, for I am in a devil of 
a fix,” he thought, as he walked down the broad 
avenue of trees that led to the street. His face 
was clouded, and he was desperate enough for any 
measure. He had not gone three blocks before he 
almost ran against a man coming toward him. 

“ Bob Maddox, is it you ? The very man I wanted 
to see.” 

“ Yes ? Ain’t this Cal Meeker ?” 

“ It is.” 

“ I started out to find yer.” 

“ Why, Bob ?” 

Bob looked up and down the street and said : 

“ It ’s all right.” 

“ What, Bob? Have you seen him?” 

“ Yes, an’ it ’s all right.” 

“ Can I see him ?” 

‘‘Yes,” 

Just then a person was seen coming up the street, 
and Mr. Meeker whispered : 


148 Mysterious Mr, Howard, 


‘‘ ’Sh ! Come to the old mill in half an hour,” and 
walked away 

The heart of the cashier beat high. He felt that 
the beginning of a desperate plan was at hand. 
wicked smile was on his face, and he thought : 

“ My proud beauty, you will rue the day you re- 
jected me ! I shall soon have it in my power to 
make you a beggar. Strip you of your wealth, and 
half your charms are gone. I wish the robber had 
cut off your ears and destroyed your beauty forever !” 

His heart stirred by these bitter reflections, he 
hurried to the mill. He had not been there long 
when Bob Maddox came in; and carefully closed 
the door behind him. 

“ Bob, is it all right ?” he asked. 

“ Yes.” 

Can I see him ?” 

“Ye bet.” 

“ When ?” 

“ Ter-night.” 

“ That is all I can ask. You shall be paid for your 
work. Where am I to see him ?” 

“ I dun know.” 

“ Don’t know? Then how am I to And him ?” 

“ Wall, all I know erbout et. Cal, is that ye air ter 
mount a hoss at midnight an’ go with me erlong er 
road till we .meet somebody.” 

“ What road ?” 

“ I warn’t ter tell that. Yer ter foller me.” 

“ I ’ll do it, but I don’t see what reason this man 
can have for keeping me in ignorance of the road I 
am to travel.” 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


149 


“ Wall, ye ort ter know, Cal, thet them fellers 
ain’t agoin’ ter let ye git ther drap on ’em.” 

“ I don’t intend to try.” 

‘‘ They don’t think ye will ; but ef ye did, ye 
couldn’t. Now, ’f ye ’ll do ez I say, an’ come with 
me, it ’ll be all right ; ef ye don’t like th’ way they 
do business, why, thar ain’t any harm done.” 

“ I will go !” Meeker declared. 

He was in a condition to brave any danger. 

“ D’ye know whar th’ big oak iz on t’other side o’ 
ther bridge ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ I ’ll be thar at midnight. D’ ye come prepared 
fur a all-night ride.” 

“ I must be in the bank at daylight.” 

“Ye ’ll be back all right. Cal. Don’t ye be 
skeered.” 

At any other time Mr. Meeker would have re- 
sented the coarse familiarity of the vulgar fellow ; 
but, repugnant as it was to him, he was compelled 
to endure it. 

He promise to be at the place mentioned at mid- 
night, equipped for the journey, 

“Ye needn’t bring er gun with ye, fur ye’ll be 
searched, an’ they won’t ’low ye ter carry any 
arms.” 

Meeker bowed and they separated. Meeker to 
return to his hotel and his companion to the saloon 
to await the time. 

At midnight the cashier might have been seen 
mounted on a splendid horse, riding toward the 
appointed rendezvous. He found Maddox waiting 


Mysterious Mr. Howa^^d. 


150 


for him, grim and silent. He uttered not a word 
until Meeker was at his side, and then in a sepul- 
chral tone said : 

“ Come on !*' 

At the point of meeting the road branched off 
into five forks going in as many directions. As 
Bob spoke he wheeled his horse into the narrowest, 
dimmest path and galloped away, with Meeker at 
his heels. The dim, almost unused road took them 
into the deepest, darkest part of the forest. For 
two or three miles they jogged along until they 
came to where the road crossed a ravine. 

“ We stop here,” said Maddox. 

They stopped, and almost immediately two 
masked men stepped from the thicket at the road- 
side, and, advancing to the cashier, asked : 

“ Who are you ?” 

“ Calvin Meeker.” 

“ Ye want t’ talk with our chief, do ye ?” 

“ I want to see the man — Bob knows who.” 

“ D’ ye still want t’ see him ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ It ’s dangerous business t’ see th’ chief, an’ some 
as see him hev repented o’ it. It ’s not too late t’ 
turn back ’f ye want to.” 

“ I will see him at all risks !” Meeker desperately 
returned, though his blood almost ran cold in his 
veins. “ If he doesn’t help me, I am ruined.” 

“ Lemme tell yer, stranger, ef ye try ter come 
any shenanigan over th’ capen, yer goin’ t’ git 
fooled, an’ hev yer brains blowed out inter the bar- 
gain. See ?” 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 




“ I am in earnest. I can put him in a way to 
make money for both of us— all of us.” 

“Wall, since ye insist on et, git down,” said the 
masked man, in a hoarse, disguised voice. Meeker 
dismounted and stood at the side of the road, while 
one of the masked men advanced, with' a large, 
black handkerchief. 

“ Must I submit to that ?” he asked. 

“ Yes.” 

He made no response, and the handkerchief was 
bound over his eyes. Bob Maddox, having per- 
formed his share of the work, rode back to town, 
leaving Mr. Meeker in charge of the masked 
strangers. 

When the cashier was blindfolded, he was led to 
his horse, where his foot was placed in the stirrup, 
and he assisted to mount and tied to the saddle. In a 
few moments he heard the trampling of horses’ 
feet about him, and then a voice said : 

“ All ready !” 

“ Let ’s go,” said another. 

The cashier’s horse was started forward, with a 
man on either side of him. They pushed on down 
a forest path. The cashier knew from the uneven 
ground that they were traversing an unfrequented 
path, and the leafy branches of trees flapping 
against him was proof positive they were riding 
through a wood. Not a word was spoken by his 
guides as they hastened with him through the for- 
est. They traveled a loi\g distance, sometimes 
over the prairie and sometimes through the deep 
wood, preserving silence. 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


^52 


At last, after what seemed an age to Mr. Meeker, 
there came a low, sharp whistle on the air, and 
almost immediately a hoarse voice said : 

“ Halt !” 

They came to a standstill. One of the guides 
remained with the blindfolded Meeker, and the 
other rode forward. The prisoner could hear him 
talking with some one. Then he came back and 
said : 

It’s all right ; come 'on.” 

Again they advanced a short distance, when they 
were again halted. 

“ Dismount !” commanded a strange, gruff voice. 

“ I can’t. I ’m tied,” Meeker answered. 

“ Loose him and let him dismount.” 

In a moment the cashier was untied and dis- 
mounted, though still blindfolded. He made an 
involuntary effort to raise his hand to the handker- 
chief which covered his eyes, and the cold muzzle 
of a revolver touched his temple, and a voice said 
in his ear : 

“ Don’t you do it ! Just touch that and you are a 
dead man !” 

His hand fell at his side, and some one seized his 
arm and led him forward a short distance. 

‘‘ Here are steps. Lift your foot a little higher.” 
He did so. “ Now bow your head, and save your- 
self getting a bump.” 

He did so, and next moment found himself inside 
some sort of a house. The floor was rough and un- 
even, and seemed composed of loose boards laid on 
sills. There were voices all about him, talking in 


Mysteriotis Mr, Howard. 


153 


unintelligible whispers. The cashier found his 
blood running cold as these whispers and shuffling 
feet were heard on every side. At last the same 
deep voice which had done all the talking said : 

‘‘ Remove the handkerchief.” 

It was taken from his eyes, and he found himself 
in a small apartment, the bare walls of logs indicat- 
ing that it was one of those deserted cabins of 
hunters or wood-choppers. On an old pine table a 
solitary candle burned, dimly lighting the dingy 
room. Six or eight men, each wearing a mask over 
his face, stood about the room. There were three 
or four old chairs, two stools and one bench in the 
apartment. These, with the table and a sort of cot 
in one corner, constituted the entire household fur- 
niture. At a wave of the hand from the tall chief 
the men slowly left, and the chief and the cashier 
alone remained. 

Sit down !” said the tall, masked man, pointing 
to a stool, while he threw himself on the bench. 

The trembling cashier obeyed. The masked man 
said : 

I am told that you are in trouble. Now I want 
you to speak freely, for we cannot come to terms 
unless you do.” 

“ I am in trouble.” 

“ What is the nature of it?” 

Short in my accounts,” was the answer. 

“Where is your bookkeeper?” 

“ He has been induced to take a position in a 
bank in Iowa.” 

“Then he is disposed of ; that is good. I have 


154 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


learned that a large amount of State funds are soon 
to be deposited in the Hawley bank.” 

“You were correctly informed.” 

“ What is the amount ?” 

“ Possibly half a million.” 

“ That, in addition to what the bank already con- 
tains, will make it a valuable bird for plucking.” 

“ Yes, sir. That is what I wanted to see you 
about.” 

“ Ah !” 

“ I propose to help 3^ou, if you will make a division 
with me. I can do much to help you — can have the 
safe open and all the funds easily to seize at the 
proper time. I can by signals and signs communi- 
cate to you when the funds have been received.” 

“ That is all a very nice plan, but are you really 
in earnest about this ?” 

“ I swear I am.” 

“ Do you know that if you attempt to betray us 
you will be shot ? Even if you were to succeed in 
betraying the whole band, and causing the arrest 
of every one, we have friends enough left to re- 
venge us. If you play the traitor, your life will be 
forfeited.” 

“ I understand all.” 

“ Then, if you understand all and mean business, 
let us talk business.” 

“ I mean what I say. Bob Maddox knows me, 
and knows I am in earnest.” 

“ You need not mention names. But you say you 
are short a bookkeeper?” 

“Yes.” 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


155 


“ It is necessary for your safety and ours that we 
have a bookkeeper in the bank whom we can 
trust.” 

“ Yes.” 

“I have such a one. Can you manage to secure 
the position for him ?” 

“ It has all been left to me.” 

“ Good. Then the bookkeeper is secured. Now, 
when he presents himself at the bank you must 
take him in at once, and give him the position.” 

“ But who will he be? What is his name?” 

After a moment’s thought, the chief answered : 

“He will be called George Fowler. It is not 
necessary that even you should know his real 
name.” 

“ When will he come ?” 

“ This is Tuesday; he will be at your bank Friday 
morning.” 

Mr. Meeker bowed. It was getting late, and as it 
was necessary that Mr. Meeker should be in town 
befqre dawn of day, the preliminaries were hurried 
through with, he was again blindfolded and taken 
to the horse, without having the least idea where he 
had been, nor could he have known a single person 
he had met, should he have seen them next day. 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


156 


CHAPTER XVI. 

Arthur’s new employment. 

Arthur Westfall was still at the house of the 
farmer who had harbored three of the band after 
the crime. The events of the last few days seemed 
a troubled dream to him, in the midst of which a 
face wondrous fair and soft, gazelle-like eyes would 
sometimes appear. He could not banish that face 
from his memory, and but for the handkerchief, 
which he took from his bosom half a dozen times a 
day, he might have thought the incident on the 
midnight express only a freak of his fancy. In his 
dreams he saw her, beautiful as a houri, pure as an 
angel, and often asked himself why he could not 
have died for her in the- car, when he defied that 
whole band. 

If ever there was a case of love at first sight, it 
was that of the young bandit. Now that he was in 
love and heir to a fortune, the life of a bandit be- 
came doubly disgraceful and contemptible to him. 

“ Why should I not have learned all this before ?” 
he groaned, when alone. “ Oh, accursed fate that 
dooms one to such tantalizing disappointments! 
Why didn’t I die in her defense and end this sickly 
dream of life ?” 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


157 


Imprisonment in a dungeon would have been 
pleasant compared to hiding in the house of this 
farmer. His two companions amused themselves 
wuth a pack of greasy cards, singing ribald songs, 
or with coarse jests, utterly disgusting to him. One 
night, as he sat in the small back room where the 
three were stored like pigs in a sty, Mr. Jackson 
came in and said : 

‘‘ Well, Arthur, I have new work for you.” 

He started, trembled and turned pale, while he 
gasped : 

“What is it?” 

“ Why, what is the matter with you, young fel- 
low ? Have you been chalking your face, or sud- 
denly taken with an ague fit ?” 

“ No.” 

“ Well, you look it ; but you needn’t go to trem- 
bling and turning white, for this job is not a dan- 
gerous one. Do you understand bookkeeping?” 

“ Yes.” 

“Then you are the man. We want you for a 
bookkeeper in a bank.” 

“ Are you going to open a bank?” asked Arthur, 
in amazement. 

“ Yes, we propose to open one and take all that 
is in it,” the bandit chief answered with a laugh. 

“ I don’t understand you.” 

^ “ Then I will explain.” 

He proceeded to tell him of Meeker, the cashier, 
being short in his accounts, and of the plan he had 
taken to cover up the deficit, and at the same time 
get a good share of the plunder. • Arthur was in- 


158 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


formed that he was to go to the bank and be in- 
stalled as bookkeeper, where he might always be on 
hand to watch the bank and give them due notice 
of the arrival of the State funds, so they could make 
the raid, clean out the cash and escape the town. 
With the cashier and bookkeeper for confederates, 
they were sure of success. 

There was no choice for Arthur in the matter. 
He was a slave to the man’s will ; so he sat mute 
and silent, while his master, the chief, proceeded to 
lay out the details of the pernicious plot. Next 
day he went to the depot and boarded the train for 
Starkeville. He was an utter stranger in this part 
of the country ; and there was little danger of any 
one recognizing him. On the day agreed upon, he 
presented himself at the bank and asked : 

“ Is Mr. Meeker in ?” 

A man with steel-blue eyes and dark-brown 
whiskers presented himself, with an insidious smile 
on his face, and answered : 

“ I am that person. Is this Mr. Fowler, the new 
bookkeeper?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

I am happy to see you.” 

He shook his hand and invited him inside. 

“ Now, I suppose you would like to see your 
private office ?” 

“ Yes, sir.” * 

They entered the private office, the door of which 
was close to the bookkeeper’s desk. Mr. Meeker 
closed the door, and looking him over, said : 

“ They made no mistake in sending you.” 


Alysterious Air. Howard. 


^59 


Arthur returned no answer, but stood near the 
iron safe in which the books were deposited, his 
eyes on the floor. 

“ I suppose you have been told to trust Calvin 
Meeker ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Well, I am sure we will get along all right.” 

“ I hope so.” 

“You have had the books explained?” 

“ Not fully.” 

“ Well, for any explanation y.ou .may need, come 
to me.” 

^^1 will.” 

Mr. Meeker went to the door of the office, looked 
out to see if any of the clerks were near enough to 
hear what they were saying, but finding all the em- 
ployees of the institution at their places, he closed 
the door and came back. In a whisper he said : 

“ The State funds have not arrived yet.” 

“ When do you expect them ?” Arthur asked, me- 
chanically. 

“ In a few days. We don’t know exactly when 
the shipment will be made. Now go to work, form 
the acquaintance of the clerks, and when the pres- 
ident comes, I will introduce you to him. You must 
play a shrewd part so as not to arouse suspicion. I 
hope you will make a favorable impression on the 
president, and I believe you will. The books are 
not exactly straight ; you know that,” he whis- 
pered. 

Arthur nodded. 

“ That matter must be kept a profound secret.” 


i6o 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


Arthur nodded again. 

“ You have kept books before?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ For a bank ?” 

“ No, a merchant, but I understand the business 
well.” 

“ The less you understand it the better,” said the 
cashier, with a strange smile. “ Now you will go to 
the books and set to work at once. Look them 
over.” 

Arthur was duly installed, and an hour or two 
later was poring over them with the determination 
of understanding them. He had not gone far be- 
fore the crookedness of the cashier became evident, 
and he made mental notes of the false entries. His 
course was, not fully mapped out yet, and he was 
working more like some one in a dream than in real 
life. But all the while he entertained a strong hope 
that some unexpected miracle would intervene to 
save him. 

“ Oh, Heaven, am I lost beyond all redemption ?” 
he groaned that night when he reached his room at 
the hotel. 

Next day he met the president of the bank, Gen. 
Frederick Hawley. The young bookkeeper liked 
the General from the first, and the liking was mu- 
tual. When the good old man grasped the thin 
hand of the youth, and gazed into his sorrow- 
stricken face, he saw that here was a young fellow 
who had suffered mentally. He spoke some words 
of encouragement to him, so the youth realized that 
here was a person whose friendship was sincere. 


Mysterious Mr. Howard, 


i6i 


And he is the man I am sent to rob, perhaps 
murder,” he thought. 

I hope you will like your position, Mr. Fowler. 
We have much for you to do, and you must not 
forget that you stand right in the line of promo- 
tion.” 

Arthur humbly thanked him for his kindness, and 
tried hard to hope he was worthy the trust reposed 
in him* As he was standing by his desk looking 
through the books, a hand touched his shoulder and 
a voice whispered in his ear : 

“ How d’ you like the old man ?” 

He turned and saw the grinning face of Mr. 
Meeker, his sharp, white teeth gleaming through 
his dark whiskers. Never, even among his bandit 
associates, had he seen a visage so diabolical. 
Meeker was a fiend incarnate, and his smile the 
smile of a devil. Outlaw though he was, Arthur 
Westfall felt that he was a being worse than him- 
self. There was a torrent of fury in his breast, but 
he had learned from experience to school himself, 
so that outwardly he was calm as a summer’s sky. 
He glanced at his interlocutor a moment, and 
answered : 

“ I like him pretty well.” 

“You made a good impression on him, my boy. 
Keep it up — keep it up, and the thing will work 
charmingly.” 

It took a great effort on Arthur’s part to restrain 
himself from knocking him down ; but he turned 
to the books, and the cashier went away from his 
desk. 


i 62 


Mysterious Mr, Howard, 


Arthur Westfall had been in the bank a week, 
and during the time had frequently met the presi- 
dent, with whom he had become a favorite. Every 
hour in that good man’s presence was torture to 
the bookkeeper who was planning his ruin. One 
afternoon, near the closing hour, Arthur was at his 
desk, which was not far removed from the presi- 
dent’s chair. General Hawley was dictating some 
letters to his stenographer, and having finished 
them, he turned to glance over the paper that lay 
at his side. The door was opened by some privi- 
leged person, and the rustle of a dress was pre- 
ceded by a merry voice, sweet as a silver bell, saying : 

“ I caught you, papa ! I was afraid you had 
gone !” 

That voice caused Arthur to start. Heaven, how 
it thrilled him ! He involuntarily turned and saw 
before him the image of his dreams, the fair un- 
known whom he had met and saved on the mid- 
night express. It was her face, her voice, and the 
same brilliant gems sparkled from the ears he had 
rescued from the bandit’s knife. His brain reeled, 
his head swam, and he tightly clutched his desk, or 
he would have fallen. 

Fortunately, the young girl and her father were 
too much engaged on some personal matter to 
notice his agitation, and a few moments later they 
left the bank together. 

A clerk came to his side and whispered : 

‘‘ That’s the old man’s girl. Ain’t she a beauty, 
though ? They say Meeker is stuck on her^ and 
it ’ll be a match. Lucky dog, that Meeker.” 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


163 


He made no answer, but bent over his books until 
the closing hour, and then hurried to his hotel, 
rushed to his room, and closing and locking the 
door, threw himself on the couch, hoarsely gasp- 
ing : 

“ It is her face ! It is she !” 


CHAPTER XVH. 

MR. HOWARD’S SUDDEN DISAPPEARANCE. 

The autumnal sun hung like a ball of fire in the 
western sky, thinly veiled by the hazy blue of 
Indian summer. The forests in their gaudy plum- 
age of vermilion and gold presented a scene far 
more lovely than an artist could paint. The ripen- 
ing fruits yielded up a sweeter perfume than the 
roses of May and June ; and all nature with ma- 
tured beauty seemed smiling with peace and plenty. 
In the rebellious heart of man only could discord 
and sorrow be found. 

No picture was more entrancing and enchanting 
than Flora Wells, as she sat by the window, the 
faint glow of the smoke-clouded sun falling on her 
face, giving to it a beauty beyond description. With 


164 


Mysteriotis Mr. Howard. 


all the beauty of autumn, there was a sadness. The 
grass once so green had become a golden brown ; 
the flowers so gay and sweet were gone. It was the 
preparation for death and burial, and nature only 
waited for the winding sheet of snow, the sleep of 
death, to prove to the mind of sinful man the doc- 
trine of the resurrection with spring. But no au- 
tumnal beauty was more sad than the pretty pale 
face of Flora Wells, as she sat by the window gaz- 
ing on the far-off blue hills, sighing, while an occa- 
sional tear stole down her cheek. 

Her father, through the persuasions of Aunt 
Rachel and the assurance that nothing but her 
“ yarb tea ” would save her life, had consented to 
leave her at the secluded inn for awhile longer, 
though he gave her to understand that it would 
fare much better with her lover if she gave him up 
altogether. She made him no promises and an- 
vSwered only with tears and sighs. She had read in 
the papers that Horace would in a few days have 
his preliminary examination before a magistrate, 
and then for the first time the prisoner would face 
his accusers. The papers stated that the excuse on 
the part of the officials for not having the examina- 
tion sooner was a fear that the prisoner might be 
lynched if he was taken from the jail. Many of the 
good people who had suffered financially by the 
bank robbery had no good feeling toward the pris- 
oner. When Flora read this she sat and shud- 
dered, and hoped and prayed that her unfortunate 
lover might escape such a fate. 

She had not heard from him since her visit, 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


165 


though she had urged him to write to her. He had 
not been permitted to do so before, though he had 
often asked for paper, pen and ink. It was thought 
that he only wanted them to notify his confed- 
erates about the weakness of his prison, that they 
might effect his rescue. At last he persuaded the 
jailer’s wife, who sometimes visited him, to furnish 
him with writing material, just to write one letter, 
and that letter to a lady. She held out at first, 
until she learned that he wanted to write a love- 
letter, and promised to let her read it. He told his 
little love story, and it was so pathetic that it 
moved her heart, and she agreed to furnish him the 
material and mail his letter for him. This was, of 
course, all done without the husband’s knowledge. 

On that very evening, as Flora sat by the 
window, bathed in the smoke-dimmed glory 
of the descending sun. Cater was on his way 
from the post-office, with the precious epistle 
in his pocket. Cater rode the old sorrel horse, 
and had something of the resemblance of a trav- 
eling commissary. There was a sack of flour 
across the animal’s withers, while a long bag hung 
across the back of the saddle, with coffee in one 
end and sugar, starch, soda, toilet soap, spices, teas 
and sundry other household necessities in the other. 
It was well balanced, and the negro riding in front 
kept it in place. As the negro rode along the path 
to Newburg tavern, his long legs dangling about 
the thin sides of the horse, his mind was wholly 
occupied with the mysteries that had of late in- 
volved the old inn. His ignorant, superstitious 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


1 66 


mind was filled with stories of ghosts, witches and 
fabled monsters, the creation of many wild and 
grotesque imaginations. 

“ Bet Massa Howard am a witch !” he finally con- 
cluded. “ Dat am it. He am a witch. Mighty 
good ter me, though, ef he am. Give old Cater 
two dollars ebery time he put his hand on de hoss. 
Now whut dat man ax me so many questions at 
de store ’bout ? He don’t git nuffin’ frum dis nigger.” 

He reached the old tavern, and, laying the flour 
and bag of groceries on the woodpile, put the horse 
in the barn, and then carried the “ things,” by 
which he meant the recent merchandise purchased 
at Rushville, into the house. Then he watered and 
fed the horse, fed the pigs and split stove-wood, 
and when he had “ done up all his chores,” went 
into the kitchen to sit by the stove until time for 
supper. He was taking his usual nap in the corner 
in the kitchen when his wife awoke him and told 
him his supper was ready. He started up, and by 
the merest accident thrust his hand in his pocket 
and discovered the letter he had brought from the 
post-office. He stared at Aunt Aggy and then at 
the clock that ticked on the mantel, and discovered 
that it was almost seven. 

“What de matter wid ye?” asked Aunt Aggy. 

“ Golly, dar am dat lettah !” he gasped. 

“Whut lettah?” 

“ De one I brung frum town fur Miss Flora, an’ I 
dun clean fo’got it.” 

“ Git up dar an’ gib it ter her mighty quick, afo’ 
ye furgit it ag’in.” 


Mysterious Mr» Howard, 


167 


Uncle Cater started up the stairway as fast as his 
legs could carry him. Flora was sitting at the win- 
dow when he entered and said : 

“ Alettah for you, Miss Flora.” 

She took the letter, glanced at the superscription, 
and recognizing the handwriting, while old Cater 
scampered down the stairs, cried : 

“ It ’s from Horace !” 

Tears of joy started from her eyes. Her heart 
leaped wildly, and a fond hope suggested that he 
might be free. She lighted her lamp, and with 
trembling hand broke the seal and sat down to read. 
The letter was full of tenderness, love and Christian 
hope, yet through all there was a dark tinge of de- 
spair. It was as follows : 

“ Standish, Jail, . 

“ Dear Flora: I do not give the date, for I have taken no 
account of time lately, and know not what day this is. Through 
the kindness of the jailer’s wife I have been enabled to write this 
letter. I know that you have not forsaken me in this dark hour, 
and though it might be better for me to remain silent, yet I can- 
not resist the desire to correspond with you. Let us hope that 
God in heaven will not permit these dark clouds to always en- 
shroud us in gloom. Let us hope yet for happiness; if it comes 
not in this life, perhaps it will in the next. I have nothing to 
write, save that I am still enclosed by these prison walls, and 
that life has only one warm spot, which is made by your love. 
Oh, it shines with such power that it illuminates even this dark 
prison cell, and I can almost thank God for my misfortune, for 
nothing else would have given me such unbounded assurance of 
your affection. I am sometimes told that the people are grow- 
ing more quiet and willing for the law to take its course. I have 
learned the day that the robbery was committed, and am trying 
to find the man I travelled with that afternoon, in order to prove 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


1 68 


an alibi. I have given the full particulars to my attorney and 
intrusted him to work up my defense. But he is young, inex- 
perienced, and, it seems to me, does not take the subject to 
heart as he should. But I will not annoy you with further de- 
tails of my case. I have the blessed consciousness that I am 
innocent, that you love me, and I would rather walk to the scaf- 
fold with that assurance than be declared free and innocent, 
doubting your love, or knowing I was guilty. 

“ Flora, hope and pray. That is all you can do now. Much 
as it would delight my soul to see you, I will not ask you to 
come, because it will only embitter your father against us and 
my cause. May God bless you, darling; and should I never be- 
hold you again, I will ever hold you dear to my heart; and 
should I die a free man or in a prison cell, your name will be 
breathed with my parting breath. Forever yours, 

“ Horace.” 

Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and her 
eyes were so dim before she had finished the letter 
that she could hardly make out a word. She kissed 
it again and again, bedewing it with her tears, and 
prayed God for help and mercy as she had never 
prayed before. 

In the midst of it all she heard the loud clatter 
of a horse’s hoofs below, and next moment the voice 
of Mr. Howard came from below, speaking in mild, 
even tones to Cater : 

Put him in the barn, remove the bridle, and feed 
him, but leave the saddle on.” 

Looking out from her window, she saw old Cater 
shaking his white, woolly head as he went away to 
the barn with the horse. A moment later the 
quick, nervous tread of the mysterious Mr. Howard 
was heard on the stairs. He hastened to his wife’s 
room. She was standing in the door. 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


169 


<< j >> 

“’Sh ! You forget yourself.’* 

How long will you stay ?” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ There is bad news ?” 

“ How could there be, my dear? You look as if 
you were scared almost out of your life.” 

‘‘ I have such a dread — ” 

“ Of what ? Come in your room and don’t be ex- 
citing the whole house into wonder.” 

They entered the room and closed the door, and 
yet Flora, whose curiosity was excited, could not 
but keep her eyes on their apartment. She heard 
the low murmur of voices, and mingled with them 
was a sob. The children began to cry, no doubt 
from sympathy, but were, silenced by persuasions 
and threats. Then all became quiet. 

“ Perhaps, after all, he is going to remain all 
night,” thought Flora. “One thing is certain ; Mr. 
Howard is having some trouble.” 

Then she returned to the window and sat there a 
long time, her thoughts going back to her impris- 
oned lover. The pale stars shone dimly from a 
murky sk}^, and the hush of night was broken only 
by the grunt of a pig, or the occasional drop of an 
acorn in the forest, which year by year was creep- 
ing closer to the old house. 

Suddenly there came on the night air the fu- 
rious dash of a horse’s hoofs. Some one was com- 
ing at full speed toward the old tavern, and the 
next moment she saw a horseman mounted on a 
dark charger galloping down the road. He reached 


70 


Mysterio7is Mr. Howard. 


the gate, and drawing rein so suddenly that his 
horse was brought almost to his haunches, flung the 
rein over a picket, leaped from the saddle and ran 
to the long porch, and, with the butt end of his 
riding whip, gave several raps on the door. Before 
Uncle Reuben, Aunt Rachel or Cater could re- 
spond to the knock, Mr. Howard, hat in hand, 
flew down the stairs. 

“ Bob !” he whispered. 

Come on quick !” 

Not another word was spoken. Mr. Howard ran 
to the barn, placed a bit in his horse’s mouth and, 
with the newcomer, was flying over the hill before 
Uncle Reuben could reach the door. 


CHAPTER XVIIL 

ARTHUR WARNED. 

Arthur Westfall, much to his surprise, grew daily 
more in favor with General Hawley. There seemed 
a peculiar affinity between them, such as makes 
people friends at sight. The more Arthur saw of 
General Hawley’s character the greater became his 
admiration and respect for him. 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


171 


“ I am going to take a drive after banking hours, 
George,” said General Hawley to his new book- 
keeper. “ Would you like to come with me ?” 

“ I will hardly have time ; the books must be 
squared.” 

“ You have worked hard. You need a little recrea- 
tion. You can come back in time to balance them. 
Come on.” 

He felt that he was a double-dyed villain for ac- 
cepting a seat in the carriage of the man whom he 
was planning to rob, and perhaps murder. Yet he 
could not refuse his kind invitation, and at the hour 
of closing, a span of prancing bays, attached to the 
General’s splendid landau, was drawn up to the 
curbstone in front of the bank, and the General said : 

Now jump in, George, and I will give you a spin 
about town.” 

Silent, yet with heart wildly beating and con- 
science racking his soul, Arthur Westfall climbed 
into the carriage, and away they went flying over 
the stony street. 

I hope you find your position pleasant,” said the 
banker, when they were started. 

“ I have no cause to complain.” 

“ Our former bookkeeper left rather mysteriously 
and suddenly.” 

“ Perhaps he had an offer of more money.” 

“ No ; I made special inquiry about it, and learned 
that he received the same salary.” 

“ Maybe the other place was more agreeable.” 

“ I can’t believe it was. He seemed perfectly 
satisfied.” 


172 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


“ He might have thought the climate more con- 
genial.” 

“ He was in excellent health, and had no cause to 
complain of the climate.” 

“ Maybe he did not get along well with the other 
employees.” 

“ No ; Meeker was his friend, and secured him 
the position. There is some deep mystery about it 
which I cannot fathom.” 

“ How long has Mr. Meeker been cashier ?” 

“ Six years.” 

“ He thoroughly understands the business of the 
bank?” 

“ Yes ; he is faithful and honest.” 

Arthur Westfall knew just how honest he was. 
He knew there was not a greater scamp in exist- 
ence, and felt that, bandit though he was, he was 
an honor compared with such a double-dyed 
scoundrel as Calvin Meeker. After an hour’s 
drive General Hawley let him out at the bank, 
and he went in to balance the books, late as it 
was. 

Next day Meeker came to the new bookkeeper 
and said : 

“ The old man seems stuck on you, George. 
That’s right ; get into his good graces all you can. 
Make yourself his chum as much as possible, for 
we can work things better by it.” 

The bookkeeper could hardly resist his natural 
inclination to knock him down, but he bit his lips 
and remained silent. 

Two or three days later, just as they were closing 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


173 


up for the day, the cashier called him into his pri- 
vate office and said : 

“ There is a friend to see you.” 

“Who ?” 

“ I am not at liberty to give his name.” 

“ Where is he ?” 

“ Be at the old mill at midnight and I will bring 
him.” 

“ Have I seen him before ?” 

“ No doubt.”’ 

“ Have you seen him?” 

“ Not to-day, but Bob Maddox, who is message- 
bearer between us, knows him, and has informed 
me that there is to be an interview to-night which 
you are to attend.” 

“ I will be there,” said the bookkeeper, though he 
was trembling in every limb. He instinctively 
knew whom he was to meet. Closing the bank, he 
went to his hotel, feeling desperate. “ How am I 
to get out of this ?” he asked himself. “ Is it better 
to follow the dictates of conscience and meet death 
sure and certain at the assassin’s hand, or be swept 
on by the fiery blasts of temptation into that perdi- 
tion which yawns for me ?” 

A terrible struggle between good and evil was 
raging in his breast, with fearful odds in favor of 
evil. To do the right was certain disgraqe, prison 
and death ; to do the wrong there was a chance of 
prolonging life, and possessing unlimited amount 
of ill-gotten gains. The devil, who is always ready 
to assume a virtue when it suits his purpose, kept 
whispering in his ear, “ Honor ” and “Never be- 


174 


Mys^terious Mr. Howard. 


tray a friend and a pal.” Would he not be a 
cowardly traitor now to betray his comrades in 
crime? But to a young man with Arthur’s good 
sense, that objection was soon swept aside. He 
knew it was not honorable to keep a dishonorable 
compact ; that one was not a traitor who repented 
and betrayed an accomplice in crime. There is no 
maxim so false as “ honor among thieves.” There 
can be no honor among such men. They are selfish, 
and stand ready to betray one another when it is to 
their own selfish interest to do so. Nothing but 
selfish interests or the fear of some superior mind 
holds them together as a bond for the perpetration 
of a crime. When once the crime is committed, or 
it is no longer apparent that they have any mutual 
interests, they stand ready to betray one another. 

At the appointed hour Arthur Westfall went to 
the old mill. The mill was dark, and as he ap- 
proached, it seemed deserted, but a man suddenly 
started up from behind a tree and said : 

“ Wait a minute, stranger.” 

Arthur stopped and the man came and touched 
his arm, saying : 

“Ye want ter go in thar?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Wall, ye better lemme show yer, ’cause how it’s 
kinder dark.” 

He took Arthur’s arm, and leading him around 
a wing of the old building, they entered at a side 
door. 

“We gotter be mighty keerful, ye kngw.” 

“ Yes.” 


Mysteriolis Mr. Howard. 


1-75 


“ Now stoop yer head a leetle, so’s not ter git a 
bump ; thar ye air. Thar’s a step down here, an’ 
now we’re in a kind uv a hall, so let ’s git along. 
Here’s er door, and,” opening the door, “ thar ye 
air.” 

They were in the small office in which Mr. Meeker 
had held his first interview with Bob Maddox. It 
was so intensely dark that Arthur could not see 
any object in the room. But Bob Maddox suddenly 
flashed a dark lantern, and he saw sitting in a far 
corner of the room a tall man with a cloak drawn 
about his shoulders and a mask over his face. With- 
out rising, he waved Bob out. 

“ Sit down,” he said. 

Notwithstanding his features were concealed, the 
young bandit at once recognized him as the chief, 
Jackson. After a brief silence,’ the chief drew his 
stool a little nearer to the bookkeeper, and in a 
low voice, asked : 

“ Did you expect me ?” 

^‘Yes.” 

You see I always have my eye on you, my boy.” 

I know it.” 

I can see a great way off. There is no field- 
glass that will reach as far as my natural vision.” 

“ He seems to know my very thoughts,” the 
bookkeeper said to himself. 

“ Now, as Hamlet’s father’s ghost says, I have 
come to ‘ whet your almost blunted purpose.’ ” 

“ Do you think my purpose blunted ?” 

‘‘ Perhaps not, but there is danger of its becom- 
ing so.” 


]\Tysterio2is Mr. Howard. 


1 76 


‘‘ How?” 

“You seem a favorite of the president, General 
Hawley.” 

“ I was advised to court his favor.” 

“ By whom ?” 

“ Meeker, and you instructed me to follow his 
dictation in all things.” 

“ That is true — strictly true,” said the chief. 
“ You were told to obey Meeker, and you have 
obeyed him.” 

“ Then,- sir, what have I done that is wrong?” 

“ Nothing that is wrong in itself,” returned the 
chief, “but I have come to point out a danger.” 

“What is it?” 

“The banker seems to have taken a strange 
fancy to you, and you to him.” 

“ I was advised to make the best impression on 
him possible, in order to insure success.” 

“ That is all proper, young man. I don’t say that 
you have yet done anything wrong ; but you are 
young in the business. You have long been ac- 
customed to — to what the world calls good society, 
which, after all, is no more honest than our own. 
Now you are not only young in the business, but 
young in life. You have all the world before you, 
and you have not shown that keen relish for the 
life of an outlaw which I had hoped you would at 
the beginning of your career.” 

“ Have I ever faltered?” 

“ I will not say you have, yet you do not seem to 
have 3^our heart in the business.” 

“ Perhaps it is because I am new in it.” 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


177 


“ That is the excuse I framed for you, and I trust 
I am correct. But let me proceed. You might 
come to the conclusion that you could tell your 
story to this old banker, enlist his sympathy, be- 
tray us, lead us into a trap, and through the influ- 
ence of General Frederick Hawley, secure a pardon 
for your past offenses. Have you not entertained 
such thoughts ?” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Really, has no such thought flashed in your 
mind ?’* 

“ It has not.” 

“ Well, if it does, let me forestall anything of the 
kind by assuring you it would be impossible, and 
tl^at even if it was possible, and you should betray 
us, we leave enough friends behind to shoot you 
down for so dastardly an act.” 

“ I understand that.” 

“ Even if we should be killed or captured, you 
would not live three days. There are men occu'py- 
iitg high positions in society who are our friends. 
You little dream the strength and power of our 
association. When one once arouses it he has 
secret foes everywhere, from whom it would be as 
impossible to escape as from the darkness of night.” 

“Mr. Jackson, you talk as if I had some such 
thought.” 

“ I have no evidence,” the chief answered. “ But 
you are carefully watched. We watch and warn, 
whether there is cause to do so or not.” 

“ If you prefer, I will treat the president with 
coldness. He urged me so strongly to ride with 


178 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


him that I dared not refuse ; at least, it did not 
seem good policy.” 

“ No, no, no, you don’t understand me. I want 
you to get in his good graces all you can. Talk 
with him, get his confidence, and learn all about 
his business and the bank.” 

“ I have already learned much.” 

Does he talk freely ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Confide in you much?” 

“ He seems to confide in me all one could ask on 
so short an acquaintance.” 

“Did you learn when the State funds would 
arrive ?” 

“ He expects them in a few days.”. 

“ Does he yet know the day ?” 

“ No.” 

“ The day they arrive you are to leave a red 
handkerchief in the window opposite your desk. 
It will be seen by some one who will communicate 
the fact to us.” 

“ I understand.” 

“ Now go back and keep your purpose keen. Win 
the old man’s good will, pump him dry, and when 
you get a good point give it to Meeker.” 

“ Are you sure he can be trusted with every- 
thing?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Is that all ?” 

“ It is. Go now, and I will disappear in a mo- 
ment.” 

Arthur returned to his hotel and retired to bed.. 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


179 


CHAPTER XIX. 

HORACE ARRAIGNED. 

Horace Rathburne’s day of examination for the 
bank robbery at Standish was drawing near. Under 
the laws of Missouri, a person accused of a crime is 
examined before a magistrate, who, if he judges 
him guilty of the offense, requires him to give bail 
for his appearance at the next term of the Circuit 
Court, if the case is bailable. If it is not bailable, 
or the accused cannot give bond, he is committed 
to jail, to await the action of the Grand Jury. 

Horace’s lawyer was a young man named Hyatt, 
of little experience or ability, and when it came to 
making a defense in such a case as this, he felt ut- 
terly lost. One day he called at the cell of his 
client, and asked : 

Can you give me some idea where 1 can find 
proof for an alibi f 

“ On the day of the robbery I was twenty miles 
from Standish, and all the afternoon, until dark, in 
the company of a man who called himself Grogan.” 

“ Where does he live ?” 

He did not tell me.” 

What sort of a looking man was he ?” 

“ He was a tall, fine-looking man, with dark- 


i8o 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


brown whiskers and blue eyes, about thirty-five 
years of age. He had the air of a business man, but 
his face showed exposure to sun and weather.” 

Where did you meet him ?” 

“ On the road, which runs through a vast forest, 
twenty or twenty-five miles south of Standish.” 

“ He was on horseback ?” 

“ Yes, sir ; he rode a roan horse, with one black 
ear. I particularly remember the horse, because 
one ear was as black as jet.” 

Did he tell you his name ?” 

“ Yes ; he said his name was Grogan. He was 
going in the direction of Joplin.” 

“ Perhaps he lives there ?” 

“ I did not understand that he did ; but it might 
be well to make inquiry at that town about 
him.” 

Acting upon this advice, the lawyer wrote to the 
Postmaster, the Chief of Police and the Mayor of 
the city of Joplin, inquiring about a man calling 
himself Grogan, riding a roan horse with a black 
ear. But they knew nothing of such a person, and 
Mr. Hyatt began to despair for his client. The ex- 
amination had been set for Wednesday, and on 
Monday Mr. Hyatt and the prosecuting attorney, 
Mr. Crompton, paid the prisoner a visit. 

I have done all I can for you, Rathburne,” said 
Hyatt. “ I can’t find this man Grogan.” 

“ I know not where he is, but surely he can be 
found,” the prisoner responded, while Mr. Cromp- 
ton sat sniffing the air suspiciously, as a pointer 
might when the game is near. 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


i8i 


“ I doubt it,” declared Hyatt. “ I don’t believe 
any one can find him, and, without him, it is hardly 
worth while to attempt a defense.” 

The prisoner sighed. 

“ He may yet be found.” 

“ Let me make a suggestion that will lighten this 
matter all round, said Mr. Crompton, his nose in 
the air, which he sniffed. “ If Mr. Rathburne will 
only look at it in a reasonable way, and turn State’s 
evidence, I think we can arrange to enter a nolle in 
his case, and he can leave the country.” 

For a moment the prisoner gave him a stare of 
astonishment, and then said : 

‘‘ Please explain more fully.” 

‘‘ Well — ahem ! — Mr. Rathburne, you see the mat- 
ter is just this : We can’t help you unless you will 
let us. Now there is no need denying your guilt. 
Everybody knows that it is useless, and you would 
get several years less if you plead guilty. If you 
would be willing to turn State’s evidence, you know, 
and give us the names of your accomplices, why, I 
will, providing what you give me leads to their ar- 
rest and conviction, enter a nolle so far as you are 
concerned.” 

Firmly fixing his eyes on the lawyer, Horace 
answered : 

“ What you ask is absolutely impossible.” 

Why ?” 

I have no accomplices. I have committed no 
crime to which I can plead guilty.” 

“ Oh, young man, you know not how such stub- 
bornness injures your case,” said the prosecuting 


i 82 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


attorney, sniffing the air. “ If you would confess, 
you would fare much better.” 

“ I will not confess,” declared the prisoner, firmly. 
“ How can I confess to that of which I am guiltless ?” 

The prosecuting attorney turned away and shook 
his head seriously, muttering something about the 
persistent stubbornness of some people. He had 
hoped to make an easy conquest in the case, gain a 
confession which would lead to the arrest and con- 
viction of others, and ultimately to his own re- 
nown. After a moment he returned, and taking 
his position before the prisoner, said : 

“ Mr. Rathburne, for the third time, do you per- 
sist in denying the facts of which you are accused ?” 

This time the prisoner only gave an emphatic 
nod. 

“ I am extremely sorry for you,” declared the 
prosecuting attorney, with a look of contempt. 
“Now I must insist on the full penalty of the law.” 

The two attorneys went into the hall and con- 
sulted a few moments, while the prisoner sat in si- 
lence on the bunk. After several minutes they re- 
turned, and Mr. Crompton said: 

“ Your attorney — who looks more to your welfare 
than any fame or honor he may gain — and I have 
discussed your case. He has permitted me to ask 
for the last time : Will you make a confession and 
turn State’s evidence ?” 

“ I am innocent,” was the answer. 

“Then, sir, how do you explain these mysterious 
circumstances that surround you?” 

“ I assure you I do not know.” 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


183 


“ You then deny?” 

“All.” 

“ Good day !” The prosecutor clapped on his 
hat, and, evidently in no good humor at being 
baffled at every point, left the prison. 

Hyatt stood with his arms folded, his head bowed, 
looking meek and crushed, and more like a con- 
demned criminal than one who was to defend. He 
was really sadly disappointed that his client did not 
plead guilt)^ and thus let him out of an awkward 
dilemma. For a young lawyer to defend an unpop- 
ular client, sure to be convicted, was almost like 
professional suicide. He turned his sorrowing eyes 
on the prisoner, who raised his head and gave him 
a stare. The prisoner was more composed than his 
advocate. 

“ If you do not want to take my case, you need 
not,” said Horace. “ If you cannot enter heart 
and soul into my defense, perhaps I can find an- 
other, or do without one altogether.” 

“You do not understand me, sir,” said Mr. Hyatt. 
“ I am not going to abandon you. I shall do all I can 
for yourcause,but it seems so utterly hopeless that — ” 

“ That you would advise me to plead guilty to an 
offense I never committed ?” 

“ No, no, no ! Really, I — that is — I mean it would 
have simplified matters a great deal. You see, 
since my failure to find Grogan of the roan horse 
with the black ear, I am pretty badly handi- 
capped.” 

“ Do the best you can. I am innocent, and will 
nat admit a lie to save my life.” 


184 Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


The lawyer raked his fingers through his long 
hair, and saying, “ Oh, where the deuce is the 
roan horse with the black ear?” hurried from the 
jail.” 

The prisoner threw himself on his couch and 
tried to sleep. Sleep was the only comfort he had, 
and he never closed his eyes that he did not feel 
the wish in his heart that he might never wake 
again. As the time drew near, the prisoner became 
more anxious for the examination. The jailer 
brought him his meals, but seldom spoke. His fel- 
low-companion in the next cell, having served out 
his term, was discharged. His departure affected 
the prisoner who remained but little, for Horace 
cared little for company. His own thoughts were 
his best companions. 

At last the day for the examination came. He 
was glad of it. He would once more be permitted 
to walk in the open air, although that walk would 
be a short one, for the office of the committing 
magistrate was not far from the jail. He brushed 
his clothes with his hands, a barber was permitted 
to come and shave him and trim his hair, which had 
grown to a considerable length, and he sent out and 
bought a new shirt and collar. 

“ The time has come to go, Horace,” said the 
jailer. “ Are you read}’- ?” 

“ Yes.” 

Put on your hat.” 

He had had such little use for a hat for the last 
few weeks that he had almost forgotten that he had 
one. He took his hat down from an iron hook, and 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


185 


the jailer, approaching him with a pair of handcuffs, 
said : 

“ Roll up your sleeves, my boy.” 

He did so, and the jailer enclosed each wrist in a 
circlet of steel, and then added : 

“ Come on.” 

The news that the great bank robber was to be 
actually led out into the open day had spread all 
over the town, and hundreds of men, women and 
boys were standing on the streets, or sitting on rail 
fences, or crowding the windows and doors to see 
him go by. 

“ There he comes ! There he comes !” shouted 
the boys as the prisoner emerged. The hooting 
and yelling were taken up all along the line, and 
louder and louder swelled ^le chorus until the very 
earth trembled under the shouting. 

Undaunted, conscious of his own innocence, and 
heedless of the consequences, the prisoner walked 
boldly between the jailer and a deputy-sheriff along 
the street. The mob closed in after them, yelling 
like demons, and twice the deputy-sheriff was com- 
pelled to drive them back with his stick. At last 
the court-room of the magistrate was reached. The 
room was packed to its utmost capacity. The 
magistrate, a man with iron-gray hair and pale-blue 
eyes, a face wrinkled and a form bent with age, was 
in his seat behind his desk, his docket open, waiting 
the appearance of the prisoner. 

Horace was led along the aisle made for him in 
the dense crowd that packed the court-room. The 
magistrate put on his glasses, and feeling about 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


1 86 


among his papers, found the information, and open- 
ing it, read it aloud to the prisoner in a solemn^ 
trembling voice. The information was in the usual 
form, charging him with unlawfully, knowingly, 
feloniously, etc., robbing and conspiring to rob the 
Standish bank, which said bank, it was alleged, was 
a corporation under the laws of the State of Mis- 
souri, and concluding with “ against the peace and 
dignity of the State.” When the old man had fin- 
ished reading, he glanced at the prisoner, who, still 
handcuffed, stood meekly before him, and in that 
same solemn and impressive voice, said : 

Now, Mr. Rathburne, you ’ve heard the charge 
against you, are you guilty or not guilty ?” 

“ Not guilty,” was the answer in a firm, unwaver- 
ing voice, which caused Ijie crowd to mutter : 

“ What impudence !” 

‘‘ Sich brass !” 

He ’ll weaken yit, see ’f he don’t.” 

“ He needs a hempen necktie.” 

Silence in the Court !” bawled the magistrate, 
as he proceeded slowly to write the plea of the 
prisoner on his docket. This done, he again 
glanced over his spectacles at the lawyers, and 
asked : 

Now, gentlemen; are ye ready ?” 

I am,” returned Mr. Crompton. 

And you ?” with a bow to Mr. Hyatt. 

I believe I am.” 

Mr. Clerk, have you plenty o’ paper to write the 
evidence?” 

The clerk answered that he had. There was a 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


187 


general hubbub all over the house, and a crowding 
and pushing of the people, this way and that. 

“ Silence in Court ! Mr. Sheriff, you must pre- 
serve order, or we shall have to clear the court- 
room. Now, gentlemen, proceed.” 


CHAPTER XX. 

A DISHONORABLE PROPOSITION. 

The prosecuting attorney called his witnesses. 
There was the cashier of the bank, the bookkeeper, 
clerk and paying-teller, then John Layman, the 
merchant, Sim Dodson, Cris Martin, Enoch Ralls, 
Jack Auglin, the village blacksmith, and half a 
dozen others who were witnesses to the robbery. 
These stood up and were sworn to tell the truth, 
the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. The 
cashier was the first witness. His story of the rob- 
bery was that on the day it was committed, near 
the hour of closing, two men entered and asked 
him to change a bill. He took the bill, examined it 
to see if it was good, and turned to get the change, 
when a noise caused him to look at the men 
again, and he saw one of them with a cocked re- 


88 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


volver leveled at his head, threatening to kill him 
if he moved or made any outcry. The other 
kicked open the wire screen and began raking all 
the money into a bag which he carried on his arm. 
One of the clerks attempted to interpose, when 
the man who was covering the cashier fired at 
him, slightly wounding him in the shoulder. The 
other employees were either driven from the build- 
ing or made to stand with their hands above their 
heads, and all the money save a few cents was taken. 

The story was corroborated by other bank em- 
ployees, none of whom recognized any one. 

“ So far they have proven nothing," Hyatt whis- 
pered in the ear of his client. 

Mr. John Layman testified to being first attracted 
by a large crowd on the street, which he learned 
had collected over some excitement about “ swap- 
ping horses." He had noticed considerable excite- 
ment before the shooting began, and then ran 
behind his counter and remained there until the 
robbers had left the town. He counted three bul- 
let-holes in the weatherboarding of his store build- 
ing after the fracas was over. He did not recog- 
nize anybody, and could not swear that the defend- 
ant was present. He saw one man about the size 
of the prisoner who had on a false beard and wig. 

“ How do you know he wore a wig and false 
beard?" asked Hyatt. 

“ Some one said so." 

Mr. Hyatt objected to any evidence that might 
be “ hearsay," and the Court sustained the objec- 
tion. The witness was told to stand aside. 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


189 


Enoch Ralls next took the stand. He was in his 
shirt-sleeves, short of stature, stoop-shouldered, 
broad-chested and had a very bald head and very 
small blue eyes beneath shag-gy gray eyebrows. 
He was slow of motion and speech, and came for- 
ward at a shambling gait and took the witness- 
chair, with his hat in his hand. He told how his 
friends Jack and Chris and himself had seen the 
horsemen come in, and that “ just on the crossing 
opposite the bank they met some more and begin 
talkin’ about swappin’ bosses.” 

“ State if you went close to them,” said Mr. 
Crompton, with an additional sniff at the air. 

“ Yes.” 

Then Enoch told how he and his friends went to 
where they were to look at their horses. 

“What kind of horses did they ride, Enoch?” 
asked the prosecuting attorney. 

“ Wall, they rid purty dog on good bosses, lemme 
tell ye, sure ez yer a foot high.” 

He then proceeded to tell how the trade was con- 
summated, by which one man was to pay the other 
a certain “ amount of boot,” and that he sent them 
to John Wiseman (the cashier of the bank) to get 
their money changed. He saw them go into the 
bank, and he and Jack were giving the horses a 
closer inspection, when all at once the shooting be- 
gan. He was sure the first shot was fired in the 
bank, but did not see the man who did it. He rec- 
ollected running into Jack and both falling. 

“ Did you see the defendant that day?” 

“ Yes.” 


190 


Mysteriotis Mr. Howard. 


^‘When ?” 

“While they were a shootin’. ” 

“Where ?” 

“ In the street.” 

“ How?” 

“ Wall, his hoss jumped clean over me, an’ he wuz 
throwd right on my back, an’ his whiskers come off 
an’ I saw his face as plain as plain could be.” 

“Were you acquainted with the defendant?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ How long have you known him ?” 

“ Wall, I reckin I ’ve knowed Horace goin’ on to 
three years.” 

“ Are you wSure it was him you saw that day ?” 

“ Jist ez sure ez I am a-settin’ here.” 

The confidence and truthfulness with which this 
was uttered shocked even the prisoner, and he felt 
almost like asking himself if it was not possible 
that he did the deed in a temporary fit of insanity 
of which he had now no recollection. Though sub- 
mitted to the most rigid cross-examination, Enoch 
did not vary from the original story. 

Next came Jack Auglin, who corroborated the 
statement made by Enoch Ralls, though he admit- 
ted that there was considerable excitement at the 
moment he saw the face of the robber, and that he 
was not as cool as he usually was, for he was 
scrambling to get out of the way ; still he was rea- 
sonably sure it was the defendant who had fallen 
on the back of Enoch Ralls and lost his false whis- 
kers and wig. 

“ If we only had the man on the roan horse with 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


191 


the black ear, there might be some hope,” Hyatt 
whispered in the ear of his client. “ It may, after 
all, be a case of mistaken identity.” 

Other corroborative evidence was introduced, and 
the State made out one of the strongest cases pos- 
sible. No witness for the defendant was intro- 
duced ; and the old magistrate, who sat all through 
the examination with his spectacles pushed back 
on his forehead, now adjusted them over the bridge 
of his nose, and said : 

“ Well, gentlemen, the duty of the Court is plain. 
No one can doubt but that the corpus delicti has 
been proven; and with no evidence for the defense, 
it looks as if he had committed the offense. I will 
have to bind him over to await the action of the 
Grand Jury.” Glancing at Mr. Crompton, he asked : 
“ How much bond ought the Court to require .^” 

Ten thousand dollars.” 

“ Oh, no. Five thousand dollars will bring him, 
I reckon. Mr. Hyatt, can you give it?” 

‘‘ It is impossible. Squire,” the attorney answered. 

“ Then I will remand him to jail in default of 
bail.” 

So Horace was again taken back to prison. Dis- 
agreeable as that prison was, it seemed a relief to 
get away from the angry faces and tiger-like glances 
of the people in the magistrate’s court. He wrote 
a second letter to Flora, telling her of the examina- 
tion, and among other things stated : 

If we can find my travelling companion of that afternoon, I 
am saved. I can by him prove an alibi. His name was Grogan, 
and he rode a roan horse with a black ear, but what has become 


192 Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


of him is a profound mystery. My lawyer has written and asked 
about him, but the earth seems to have opened and swallowed 
him up.” 

Days wore slowly by. It was three months be- 
fore the next session of the Circuit Court, and as 
the Judge was too busy to call a special grand jury, 
the prisoner knew he would have a long time to 
wait. 

About a week after his preliminary examination, 
he was sitting in his cell, when the jailer came and 
said : 

“ There is a visitor to see you.” 

“ Who ?” cried the prisoner, starting up, wonder- 
ing who it could be ; and a tall man with a dark 
coat well buttoned up to the chin entered his cell. 
He wore a broad-brimmed hat slouched over his 
face. Beneath his hat could be seen dark-brown, 
close-cropped chin whiskers. 

“ This is Mr. Horace Rathburne, is it not ?” asked 
the newcomer. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ I want to talk with you. Jailer, I would be 
alone.” 

As he had placed a five-dollar bill in the jailer’s 
hand as a present, that functionary made an ob- 
sequious bow and retired. 

•“ I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance,” 
said the prisoner, glancing at the cavalier-looking 
stranger. 

“ I doubt if we ever met before ; nevertheless, I 
am your friend. Please sit down, for we can talk 
here alone and uninterrupted.” 


HIS GUIDES HASTENED WITH HIM THROUGH THE FOREST. 







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Mysterious Mr, Howard. 193 


The prisoner was greatly puzzled at his visitor, 
and began to make a mental inventory of him as 
he sat before him. He had a cavalier-like air. His 
broad-brimmed hat sat jauntily on one side of his 
head, revealing a face that was bold and handsome. 
The steel-blue eyes were perfectly fearless as they 
shone in the light of the solitary candle that burned 
in his cell. He was a horseman, for he carried a 
riding-whip in one hand, and spurs jingled at his 
boot-heels. 

“ I hardly know how you can be interested in me,” 
said the prisoner. 

Wait and see.” The stranger spoke in a low, 
cautious tone, scarcely above a whisper, and seemed 
very much in Earnest. “ I know your story.” 

“ I suppose all the world knows it, but none save 
one knows the truth.” 

“ Don’t be deceived. There is one more than 
your sweetheart who knows the truth. But, young 
man, listen. To speak plain English, you are in a 
bad box. You know it. Your .salvation depends 
on two things.” 

“ What are they, sir?” 

“ There are two ways to extricate you from this 
trouble. As usual in the ways of this life, that 
which is surest is the harshest ; that which is mild- 
est, most uncertain.” 

Explain.” 

“ If you can prove an alibi, of course you are 
acquitted. That alibi, sir, depends on a certain 
man who rode a roan horse with a black ear. It is 
barely possible that a jury might not believe him.” 


194 


Mysteri02is Mr, Howard, 


“You have been talking with my attorney?” 

“Indeed, I never met the gentleman.” 

“ Then how do you know of the roan horse with 
the black ear?” 

“ I know everything, my friend. I see every- 
thing and hear everything. No field-glasses reach 
so far as my natural vision, and I have had my eyes 
on you for some time. Now Would you like to be 
free ?” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ It can be done.” 

“ When?” 

“ Soon ; but before I set you at liberty, let me 
talk with you. What I do for you is done at a great 
risk. I run a great risk in coming here, but I can’t 
explain. You say you are innocent?” 

“ I am.” 

“ The world won’t believe you. Even if the roan 
horse with the black ear is found, the jury would 
convict you. Some one has lost money, a bank has 
been robbed, the public has been outraged, and a 
victim must be found. You are the one offered, 
and you must be the sacrifice. Now you had as 
well have the game as the 7iamel' 

“Why?” 

“ You are called a thief, a robber, and you might 
as well be one. Suppose a band of bold, desperate 
fellows should enter this jail and liberate you, 
would you go with them ?” 

This was said in a whisper. The prisoner started 
to his feet and stared at him in amazement. The 
cool effrontery of the stranger stunned him. He 


][[ysterious ]\Ir. Hozvard, 


^95 


could hardly believe that any one would have the 
audacity to make such a proposition. After a mo- 
ment he said : 

“ You are either what you pretend to be — a robber 
seekingr recruits for your infamous band — or a de- 
tective, seeking to entrap me. In either case you 
are a contemptible scoundrel, and I command you 
to go. Leave me ! I am innocent, and have deter- 
mined to suffer as an innocent man rather than gain 
my liberty by disreputable means. I will talk no 
more with you, so go !” 

“ You may regret this,” the tall stranger re- 
marked, rising ; and slouching his hat down over 
his face, he hurriedly left the jail. The jailer was 
standing on the outside waiting for him, and the 
man who had just interviewed Horace whispered: 

“ I was not able to work him.” 


196 


Alysterious Mr. Howard. 


CHAPTER XXL 

MR. GEORGE WEATHERBY ADVISED. 

It was a forest stream, slow and silent, yet a clear, 
strong current, sweeping through the woods, sil- 
vered with sunshine. Maple trees, sycamores and 
oaks fringed the banks. A great bridge spanned 
the noiseless water — noiseless save when some 
member of the finny tribe took it into its head to 
kick up its heels and exhibit its silver scales in the 
sunlight. At the right of the bridge stood the old- 
fashioned Missouri plantation house of George 
Weatherby, which has been only partially de- 
scribed. It was such a building as half a century 
ago might have been seen all over the South. It 
was a two-story brick house, with narrow, old-fash- 
ioned windows, and half a dozen decaying negro 
cabins and outhouses surrounding it, though there 
were no negroes in the cabins now. Old plantation 
days in the South are gone forever. Mansion-house 
and cabins were guiltless of paint, but touched by 
Time’s soft fingers into that dull, brownish gray 
that harmonizes with everything on the earth be- 
low and the heavens above — with the silver of the 
river, the green of the trees and the blue of the 
sk}^ The old mansion-house and modest little 


JMysterious Mr. Howard. 


i97 


cabins did not obtrude themselves, but simply 
nestled down, like an old partridge and her brood, 
at the foot of the hill, near the winding road lead- 
ing to the bridge. Morning glories and ivy, with 
their wealth of rich green, purple and white, seemed 
striving to hide all about the house and cabins that 
was ugly. 

Here Mr. George Weatherby had lived since he 
had emigrated from Virginia twenty years before. 
George Weatherby was called by his neighbors 
“close-fisted” and “miserly,” but no one ever 
thought of him as being guilty of a dishonest act. 
He was said to be so straight-laced that he could 
not even forgive his nephew, who had been accused 
of purloining money from his employer. 

“ Aunt Becky,” the wife, declared herself that she 
thought “ George ” was too harsh on Arthur, and 
that, after all, he might have been innocent. 

This awoke Mr. Weatherby ’s wrath. His eyes 
flashed fire and the backbone of his nose rose sev- 
eral' degrees higher while he glared at his wife 
furiously and replied : 

“ Call him innocent, d’ ye ? Why, jist look at th’ 
way he spent money. Where did he git all that 
money t’ frolic with. I’d like ter know, ef it warn’t 
from Mark Hunt?” 

As Aunt Becky was incapable of making any 
satisfactory answer, she held her peace. When the 
wanderer returned to the only home he had ever 
known and was turned away, as described in a 
former chapter. Aunt Becky sat in her bed-cham- 
ber weeping. She saw him, tired and hungry, go 


198 


Mysterio2is Air, Howard. 


down the path to the front gate, and had she not 
been intimidated by the wrath of her husband, 
would certainly have gone and brought him back. 
But she knew that George Weatherby was a man 
to be dreaded when in a rage ; so she kept her 
room, silent tears alone testifying how her heart 
went out to Arthur. 

Whatever motive her husband might have had in 
persecuting Arthur Westfall, Aunt Becky was no 
party to it. 

No authentic information had been received 
from the wanderer since he left the neighborhood. 
It was rumored that he had been seen in the vi- 
cinity of Kansas City, and there was another report 
that he was on the Pacific coast, working on a sheep 
ranch ; another said a young man answering his 
description had died in Denver. George Weatherby 
had once or twice expressed the belief that his 
nephew was with the road-agents at that time com- 
mitting depredations in the West. No one believed 
it ; nevertheless, the story was circulated. People 
have a strange way of repeating what their own 
judgment discredits, until a falsehood is believed to 
be a fact. This report was scattered so broadcast 
that the Higbce Windmill and Wentzville Indicator 
published long editorials in regard to certain ru- 
mors of a young man who had been discharged 
from a, certain store for supposed crookedness in 
accounts, or, to speak more plainly, for too frequent 
visits to the money drawer of the merchant, had 
united his fortunes with banditti, and was now in the 
line of promotion to the gallows or penitentiary. 


MysteiHous Mr. Howard. 


19$ 


No one circulated these stories with more relish 
than Arthur’s former fellow-clerk, Ab Nichols. 

Mr. Hunt himself declared he put no reliance in 
the story, and that while there was strong circum- 
stantial evidence that his former employee had 
taken money, he did not believe him naturally 
dishonest. It was more a misfortune than a 
fault. 

Thus the opinions of the people stood on the 
afternoon in question. Mr. Weatherby had, like 
most slave owners in the South, suffered by the 
war. A good share of his wealth consisted in ne- 
groes, and those he lost. His large farm was 
heavily mortgaged. His horses, cows, sheep and 
hogs yielded little profit, owing to bad manage- 
ment, and his grasping nature sighed for a fortune. 
The old man had almost grown haggard of late. 
Anxiety and fear had nearly dethroned his reason, 
so that at times he talked strangely of vast fortunes 
almost within his grasp, but which he feared his 
missing nephew would snatch from him. 

Aunt Becky once told the preacher, who was mak- 
ing his pastoral call, that her husband talked 
strangely in his sleep, and sometimes awoke with a 
shriek. 

Mr. Weatherby was feeding his pigs, cattle and 
horses on the afternoon in question. It was rather 
early to begin feeding, most farmers thought, for 
pasturage was still good. But Weatherby had ex- 
plained that he was getting all his stock ready for 
the early fall market, to sell all he possessed and re- 
turn to Virginia. 


200 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


He stood by the pig-pen watching those vora- 
cious animals devour their corn, while he was men- 
tally calculating how soon they would be ready for 
the market. The sound of wheels fell on his ears, 
and glancing down the road, he saw a carriage com- 
ing across a long bridge and drive up toward his 
house. It was a vehicle belonging to a livery stable 
in the nearest town. The driver drew rein at the 
gate, and said : 

“ Here you are !” 

A professional-looking gentleman alighted, and 
Mr. Weatherby hastened toward him. He had 
small, black, cunning eyes, a smooth, shaven face 
and narrow forehead. His features expressed keen 
unscrupulousness, though his manner was affable 
and pleasant. 

“ What is your bill?” he asked the driver. 

“ Two dollars.” 

“ Come for me to-morrow,” he added, handing 
the driver the money. 

“ Gosh ! Talks az ef he wuz goin’ t’ put up with 
me t’-night,” said Mr. Weatherby. “ Howdy?” he 
added, on reaching the gate where the stranger 
stood, a small travelling-bag in his hand. 

“ Is this Mr. George Weatherby ?” he asked. 

“ Yes.” 

Taking his hand, the newcomer said : 

“You are the man I came to see. I am Allen 
Cravensford.” 

‘ Th’ lawyer ?” 

■“Yes.” 

“ Frum Virginia ?” 


Mysterioits Mr. Howard 


201 


“ Yes, sir.” 

‘‘ Why, yer th’ man I writ to !” 

“Yes, but we will talk about that when alone. 
Doesn^t your wife know of this?” 

“No.” 

“ Nor any of the other members of the family ?” 

“ No. I keep my business t’ myself.” 

“ That is wise.” 

“ Now come in.” 

Aunt Becky, who had just milked, and was busy 
“ doing up her night work,” came in, wondering 
who had come to see them. 

“Becky, this is Mr. Cravensford, from Virginia.” 

“ La, massy sakes alive ! he’s a long way frum 
home !” 

“ He’s goin’ t’ stay all night, so hev supper ready 
soon as you kin, an’ tell th’ gal t’ fix up th’ spare 
room for him to-night.” 

After supper was over the farmer and his guest 
went into the sitting-room, where they could be 
alone, and closed the door. The autumn evenings 
were growing cool, and a bright fire was blazing in 
the broad, dark-throated fireplace. The farmer 
lighted a pipe and the lawyer a cigar, and both 
smoked in silence. At last the lawyer said : 

“ Why didn’t you answer my last letter ?” 

“ I answered every letter I got.” 

“.But the one in which I accepted your offer to 
help you out?” 

“ Didn’t git no sich letter.” 

“You didn't?” ^ 

“ No ; I swear I didn’t,” ^ 


202 


Mystcrio2is Mr, Howard. 


The lawyer started up, threw the stump of his 
cigar in the fire and said : 

“ Then we are in a devil of a fix.” 

“ Why?” 

“ The letter was lost.” 

“ Well, what ’f et wuz ?” 

“ It may be found ; and it tells the whole story 
about your nephew and the half million — ” 

It was George Weatherby’s turn to leap to his 
feet in astonishment. He did it so suddely that he 
dropped his clay pipe, which was dashed to pieces 
on the stone hearth. 

“What did ye lose that letter fur?” he gasped, 
looking as if he could tear the lawyer to pieces. 

“I did not lose it. I mailed it to you, registered 
it, and supposed no other eyes save yours would see 
it.” 

“When war it writ?” 

The lawyer gave him the date of the letter, and 
the old man said : 

“ Why, it ort to a-been here three weeks ago.” 

“ Of course.” 

“ Then it’s lost.” 

“ If it should never be found, I would not care,” 
said the lawyer. “ But if it should be found, then 
there would be trouble for both of us. Where is 
this Arthur Westfall ?” 

“ Nobody can tell, for nobody knows,” returned 
the farmer. “ Some say he went West, some say he 
is dead, an’ some believe he j’ined the train- 
robbers.” 

If either of the two last reports is true, we are 


HTysterioiis ]\h\ Howard. 


203 


safe. But if he is living out West, he may hear of 
this some time, and make us trouble. The best 
thing you can do is to go to Virginia as soon as 
possible, get control of that fortune and disappear.” 


CHAPTER XXIL 

MR. WELLS’S MYSTERIOUS VISITOR. 

We should perhaps ask the reader’s pardon for 
so often shifting the scenes of our story, but there 
are so many threads in the warp and woof of this 
romance that, like the weaver, we are compelled to 
drop one shuttle and pick up another. We ask the 
reader to accompany us to the store of Mr. Jordan 
Wells in Wellsville. 

Mr. Wells was the old type of a cruel father who 
has been so often drawn by the novelist, but is not 
half so bad a parent as he is represented. He was 
looking after the welfare of his child. Her happi- 
ness was the main thought in his mind, and he 
knew enough of this sordid world to know that hap- 
piness and poverty are incompatible. As soon as 
he discovered that there was danger of Horace 
Rathburne, his penniless clerk, winning his daugh- 
ter’s heart, he took measures to stop proceedings 


Mj'sterwns Mr. Howard. 


204 


at once ; for while Horace was honorable, he was 
under the curse of poverty. Mr. Wells had reached 
that age when “ the heyday in the blood is tame 
and waits on judgment,” and wished to conform his 
daughter’s ideas of love to his judgment. He looked 
on the son of a wealthy merchant named Hunt, of 
another town, as a suitable match for Flora, for the 
uniting of the two great commercial houses of 
Wells and Hunt would have been a power in Mis- 
souri. Josiah Hunt was, in the eyes of Mr. Wells, 
a model young man. He was well educated, not 
bad-looking, and what was worth all other accom- 
plishments, was an excellent salesman. But Josiah 
was so engrossed iii business that he neglected to 
start in soon enough to win the heart of Miss 
Wells, and before he was quite ready the clerk in 
her father’s store, Horace Rathburne, had already 
succeeded. 

When he learned of Horace’s arrest on the charge 
of the bank robbery, he very naturally supposed 
that would put an end to the affections of the 
beauty of Wellsville, and determined not to let any 
one get ahead of him again ; so two or three days 
after Mr. Wells’s visit to his daughter, Josiah left 
his father’s store in Huntsville and took the train 
for Wellsville. He found the merchant in his store, 
which was very favorable to Josiah, for he was 
never so much at home as when he was in a mer- 
cantile house, surrounded by cash-boys and clerks. 
He was so thoroughly absorbed in business that he 
had neglected to take the scissors from his vest- 
pocket or the pencil from behind his ear, and as he 


Mystei'io^is Mr. Howard. 


205 


sat in the merchant’s private office he could hardly 
refrain from rapping on the desk and calling for 
some imaginary cash-boy. 

When the merchant entered with a hearty “ How 
are you, Josiah !” he intuitively touched his scissors, 
as if about to respond : “ Yes, sir ; very cheap and 
fast colors! How many yards, please?” But he 
checked his habit, and answered more properly and 
appropriately ; 

“ Pretty well, thank you ; I hope I find you the 
same ?” 

“ How is your father*?” 

“ Well.” 

“ Is he going to Chicago or New York to lay in 
his winter stock?” 

“ He believes he will go to New York.” 

“ How has your fall trade opened ?” 

“ Very fair.” 

Then for some time their conversation ran on in 
the commonplace line, Mr. Hunt, junior, all the 
while trying to get on the track of what he had 
come to say. He got at it in a blunt, business-sort 
of a way : 

“ I just thought, Mr. Wells, T would run over and 
see — see if we could — that is, I mean I wanted to 
ask you where Miss Flora is ?” 

Mr. Wells cleared his throat, and in a voice some- 
what husky, answered : 

“She is with her uncle at a place, or where a 
place used to be, called Newburg. Her uncle, Reu- 
ben Price, has an old-fashioned tavern there, where 
the hunters usually stop during the fall.” 


500 


Mysterio7is J/r. Howard. 


“ How longf will she remain ?” 

“ I cannot say. She may stop all winter.” 

“ Let me see ; what station is nearest ?” 

“ Rushville.” • 

“ Well now, Mr. Wells, you have known our house 
for a long time, and know we have always been 
able to discount our bills ; would you have any ob- 
jection to my calling on your daughter?” 

The merchant, after a moment’s silence, an- 
swered : 

“ No. I reckon not.” 

“ Even if that visit might be with an object to 
matrimony ?” 

“ No.” 

That point settled, those practical business men 
once more returned to mercantile matters. On 
taking his leave Mr. Hunt, junior, said that as soon 
as they had completed their fall invoice and added 
their new stock he would go to Newburg. • He re- 
garded the matter as completely settled as if he 
had purchased a thousand dollars’ worth of goods 
on thirty days’ time. 

Mr. Wells wished the young man success, but he 
knew his daughter too well to build much hope on 
the wooing of Mr. Hunt, junior. Flora would not 
be wooed in such a business fashion, and, besides, 
he feared that Horace already had too strong a hold 
on her affections for Hunt to have any show. 

Three days after the visit of Mr. Hunt, junior, 
a tall, finely formed gentleman, whose boots, spurs, 
broad-brimmed sombrero and riding-whip gave him 
a cavalier-like appearance, entered the store and 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


207 


inquired for Mr. Wells. His eyes were steel-blue, 
his dark-brown beard closely trimmed, and his face 
had about it something attractive. He was shown 
to the desk of the merchant, who sat next the 
cashier, where he could overlook the entire store. 

“When can I see you alone fora short time?” 
asked the stranger, removing his broad-brimmed 
hat. 

“When we close up.” 

“ What hour do you close ?” 

“At seven.” 

“ Do you then go home?” 

“ Certainly.” • 

“ I will be there at eight.’' 

“Yes, sir.” 

The tall cavalier-like stranger walked away, his 
spurs jingling at his boot-heels as he went. Mr. 
Wells glanced after him a moment, and then, turn- 
ing to his cashier, said : 

“ Do you know him, Lizzie?” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Has he ever been in the store before ?” 

“ I have never seen him.” 

“ I must say that he is the coolest person I have 
met lately.” 

But when Mr. Wells reached home the business 
vexations and annoyances of the day had almost 
driven from his mind his prospective visitor. Hav- 
ing finished his dinner, he went to the study to 
smoke a cigar and glance over the evening paper. 
The door-bell rang, and a moment later a servant 
gaid there was a gentleman to see him, 


208 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


“ Show him in,” returned the merchant, now re- 
membering his promised visitor. In a few moments 
the cavalier-looking stranger was admitted to his 
presence. 

“ Well, sir, what is your business ?” asked the 
merchant. 

“ I am here on an errand of mere}",” said the 
cavalier, seating himself in a chair, with his back to 
the wall facing the door on his left, so he could see 
any one that might enter. 

“ Errand of mercy ?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Well, if you want charity, I — ” 

“You do not understand me, sir. I am not a- 
beggar,” and there was an expression of pride in 
the manner of the young cavalier. 

“ Well, sir, what the deuce do you mean ?” asked 
the merchant. • 

“ When you hear what I have to say, sir, you may 
think that I am meddling with what does not con- 
cern me ; but if you remember the answer of Cain 
when asked where his brother Abel was, you might 
conclude, after all, we are our brother’s keeper.” 

“ Well, sir, go on ; say what you have to say, and 
be done with it.” 

“ I believe you are a man who wants to do what 
is right, and that you wish no innocent man harm.” 

“ I don’t.” 

“A young man named Horace Rathburne once 
clerked in your store ?” 

“ Yes — he is in jail.” 

“ I know that — but how did he get there ?” 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


209 


“ The sheriff put him there.” 

“ But for what ?” 

“ For what ? Why, hang it, robbery man. Haven’t 
you heard the story?” 

“ Yes, and I have heard more than is generally 
told.” 

“ What do you know about it ?” 

“ I know the young man is innocent.” 

“ You do ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ How do you know it ?” 

“ Now don’t ask me how, because I am not at lib- 
erty to tell, but I swear to you he is innocent.” 

“ Then why wasn’t he proven such at the pre- 
liminary examination ?” 

“ Because he has been caught by some infernal, 
relentless circumstances, which seem determined 
to drag him down to ruin.” 

“ If you know he is innocent, can’t you prove 
it?” 

“ No, sir. There are some things which we 
positively know, yet can’t prove. Now, Mr. Wells, 
this young man was for a long time in your employ, 
was he not ?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Was he faithful?” 

“ He was.” 

“ Sober ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Industrious ?” . , 

“ Very.” ^ . . ' ; ; ^ | . 

“ Honest ?” . . > 


2 10 


Mysterious Air. Howard. 


“ Yes, all of that.” 

“ Did you ever hear him accused of any offense 
before the Standish bank robbery ?” 

“ No,” 

‘‘ Now, my dear sir, you, who are an intelligent, 
reading man, should know that a man who begins a 
criminal career don’t begin as high up in the scale 
as bank robbery, but with some petty offense, until 
he gets his hand in.” 

‘^Two men, who cannot be impeached, swear 
positively that he is the criminal.” 

“ It is a case of mistaken identity. If you knew 
positively that this young man was innocent, would 
you still have him convicted, because he loved your 
daughter, something, perhaps, he could not help?” 

“ My daughter is not to be considered in the mat- 
ter at all, sir. If I knew he was innocent, I would 
spend my last dollar to prove him so, or I would do 
the same with any one else I knew to be innocent. 
But he is not innocent. There is the evidence of a 
dozen of the best men in Standish to convict him.” 

The cavalier slowly rose, and donning his broad- 
brimmed sombrero, took a step nearer to the mer- 
chant, and bending over him, pointed his long 
forefinger almost in his face, and in a low, solemn 
voice, said : 

“ Horace Rathburne is innocent of the crime of 
which he is accused, sir ; I swear it !” and turning 
abruptly on his heel, left the house. As soon as the 
astonished merchant could recover himself he went 
out to look for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. 


Myste7'ious J/r. Howard. 


2 1 I 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

A TRAGEDY ON THE ROAD. 

The tall, cavalier-like stranger, on leaving the 
home of the merchant, went to a livery barn and 
said to a stable boy : 

“ Get my horse !” 

While the boy was saddling his horse he stepped 
to the office and paid the clerk. When the horse 
was saddled he mounted and rode to the suburbs of 
the town, where stood a public house, patronized by 
people coming and going. The public house had a 
lunch counter, a bar and a restaurant. 

h'astening his horse to the hitch-rack, the stranger 
entered and seated himself at one of the small 
tables and ordered a cup of coffee and a steak. No 
one belonging to the restaurant had ever seen him 
before, but there was a man at another table who 
occasionally gave him a curious glance. 

The cavalier’s back was to the wall, his face 
toward the door, and the man who seemed inter- 
ested in him sat on the opposite side of the room. 
There is something spiritual about a stare. We 
may not see the person looking at us, but we some- 
how become cognizant of the fact. 


212 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


The waiter brought the newcomer his steak and 
coffee and asked : 

“ Will you have anything more ?” 

“ No.” 

Glancing at the spurs on his heels, he asked : 

“ Are you goin’ to ride ?” 

With an impatient frown, the cavalier answered : 

“ Yes.” 

He finished his steak and coffee in silence. Once 
only he raised his face and met the impudent stare 
of the stranger opposite. The man’s eyes drooped 
beneath his own, and the horseman finished his 
meal while the inquisitive stranger sipped his beer 
and ate his toast in silence. Having finished his 
supper, the cavalier went to the cashier’s desk and 
paid for his meal. 

“ Are you buying cattle ?” asked the proprietor, 
with the polite inquisitiveness of a Missourian in- 
terested in the welfare of his friends. 

“ Yes.” 

“ I hope you will come again.” 

Without any response, the horseman left the 
restaurant, while the eyes of the inquisitive stran- 
ger at the other table followed him. Mounting his 
horse, Mr. Wells’s visitor galloped down the road. 

“ Do you know that man ?” 

The cashier looked up from the pile of ^ bills he 
was counting. It was the inquisitive stranger. 

“ Who ?” the cashier asked. 

“ The man with spurs and riding whip, who just 
left.” 

“No.” . „ 


Myste^noits Mr. Howai'd. 


213 


“ Was he ever here before ?” 

“ No.” 

“ Did you learn his name ?” 

“ I don’t ask people their names when they come 
to the house.” 

A baffled look came over the face of the inquisi- 
tive man, but he had not given up yet. 

“ You evidently have no suspicion who that man 
is ?” 

“ No.” 

“ Can you procure a saddle-horse for me at 
(mce ?” 

“ I don’t keep a livery stable.” 

“ But you can send a boy for one. Let him go to 
Barnes & Miller and give him this note ; they know 
me there.” 

The inquisitive man hastily pencilled a note as 
he spoke. The proprietor looked at him in amaze- 
ment and wanted to know why he did not go and 
do it himself. The man, folding the note, said : 

“ I must run across to the station and send a tele- 
gram ahead. Here is a dollar for the boy who 
carries the note and brings the horse,” and he was 
gone. 

“ Here, Charley,” called the cashier, who was also 
proprietor. “ Take this note to Barnes & Miller 
and bring back the hoss. That feller seems in a 
blamed hurry all at once.” 

Xs the inquisitive stranger was hurrying to the 
telegraph station, he muttered : 

There is no mistake this time. I thought before 
he left I knew him, now I know it. Wish I had 


\ 

214 Mysteriotis Mr. Howard. 


stopped him there. It would have caused a scene,, 
but it would have ended matters then and there. 
Never mind, I will get him yet.” 

Reaching the telegraph station, he .sent dis- 
patches flying in every direction, describing the 
horseman, and calling on the officials of the State 
to stop him. Having done this, he hurried back to 
the public house, which he reached just as Charles 
arrived with the horse. 

“ Where are ye *goin’ so sudden ?” asked the 
cashier, as he vaulted into the saddle. 

“ Not far, I hope,” and without another word he 
galloped away. 

“ Wall, I be dinged if there ain’t more queer 
things a happenin’ in the world ’n I ever heerd on,” 
said the proprietor, as he watched the long line of 
smoke-like dust trailing after the flying stranger. 
Turning to the boy who brought the horse, he 
asked : “ Charley, who is that fellow ?” 

“ His name is Bolls.” 

“Where does he live ?” 

“ Some tin sed he wuz from Chicago.” 

“ What’s he a-doing here ?” 

“ Dun know.” 

“ I ’ve seen that feller a-loafln’ around fur a week. 
Bet he ’s a sharper a-tryin’ t’ skin some un.” 

The first horseman who had left the town rode at 
a brisk canter until he was half a mile from the cor- 
porate limits of the"* city, and then, putting hishor^e 
to a gallop, kept him at that pace, until the animal 
was in a lather-sweat. Drawing him up to a slower 
Sfait, he said : 


Mysterious Jl/r. Howard. 


215 


“ He eyed me rather inquisitively. I am not at 
all pleased with his manner.” 

He placed his right hand under his coat and drew 
something around until it was nearly in front of his 
body. This act seemed habitual with him, for he 
repeated it several times in the next half hour. At 
the end of that time he heard the tramp of a horse’s 
hoofs coming down the road in his rear. Again 
the right hand went under his coat, but only for a 
moment. The horseman following seemed a peaceful 
enough citizen, though he was riding quite briskly. 

The man he was pursuing showed no disposition 
to evade him, but cast furtive glances behind as he 
drew nearei^. The road they were travelling led 
through a dense forest, and there was not a house 
within two miles of the point where the last horse- 
man overtook the first. The sky was cloudless, but 
the moon had not yet risen, and the pale light from 
the stars could not penetrate the solemn depths of 
that old wood. Crickets chirped from the decayed 
logs ; the noise of the peaceful night issued from 
the woods. The birds had long since retired to 
their leafy branches, and only the rustle of the 
leaves, stirred by some prowler, disturbed the quiet 
of nature. The night was cool and pleasant. 

The horseman whom w^ have called the cavalier 
was in a low portion of the country, with the tall 
trees on every side tossing their ^iant branches 
against a starry sky. The echoes of the hoofs of 
his pursuer’s steed drew nearer and nearer. He 
drew his horse to one side of the ro^d, ^s if to let 
the coming horseman pass. 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


216 


He came up, slackened his pace, and said : 

“ Good evening, stranger.” 

“ Good evening, sir,” was the response, in a low, 
husky voice. 

“ How far are you going ?” 

“ Some distance.” 

Are you well acquainted in this part of the 
country ?” 

“ No.” 

“ Did I not see you back in the town we just 
left?” 

“ I don’t know.” 

In the darkness that enveloped them, the cavalier 
was enabled to put his hand under his qpat without 
his companion seeing him. 

“ But you were there ?” 

“ In town?” 

Yes.” 

“ I was.” 

“Thought I had seen you.” 

“Well, sir,” in a deep, husky voice, “what if you 
did ?” 

“ Oh, nothing ; you were in Blake’s restaurant ?” 

“ I left it sober.” 

The man who had just overtaken him, though re- 
pulsed at every point, continued, undaunted, to ply 
him with questions. 

“ Do you live ^ar from here ?” he asked. 

“ Some miles.” 

“ Are you going home to-night?” 

“ No.” 

“ Where do you expect to stop ?” 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


2 I 7 


“ I don’t know.” 

“ I believe I have seen you before to-day.” 

‘‘ Perhaps ; but I don’t recall the time.” 

“ It was in a railway train.” 

“ I sometimes travel by rail ; you might have met 
me.” 

Then they rode for some time in silence. The 
night was too dark for them to see each other’s 
features, although they continually cast furtive 
glances at each other. 

“You have not been long in this part of the 
State ?” 

“ I reached Wellsville to-day.” 

“ I saw you at Mr. Wells’s store.” 

“ I had business of a private nature with the mer- 
chant.” 

“ You look very much like a man for whom I have 
long been watching.” 

The cavalier-like traveller pushed back his broad- 
brimmed hat, and giving his companion a bold 
glance, answered : 

“ Now that you have found me, what are you 
going to do about it ? What can it be to you who 
I am, where I live, or whither I am going? As 
you seem in a greater hurry than I, ride on.” 

As he spoke he pulled his horse to the side of the 
road and stopped. Not many rods ahead of them 
was a broad stream, spanned by a strong bridge, 
with great, arched arms on each side supporting 
timbers. They had reached a bit of rising ground 
above the bridge, when the horseman drew rein 
and ordered his companion to pass on. 


2i8 


Mysterious J\Ir. lloward. 


“ You seem tired of my company.” 

•‘Pass on, if you please,” said the cavalier, “I 
will wait here until you have crossed the bridge.” 

The moon was just rising, and the pale, silver 
rays began to cast a cold, gray light through the 
almost denuded trees. But its light was not yet 
strong enough to show the expressions of anger on 
the faces of the travellers, who had come to a halt, 
facing each other so closely together that their 
horses’ heads almost touched. 

“ I am not going to cross the bridge,” answered 
the man who had followed the cavalier. 

“ Then turn about and go the other way.” 

To this the man whom the boy called Bolls re- 
plied : 

“ Yes, I will go back ; but you shall accompany 
me.” 

“ I ?” 

.“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

“ Because you are my prisoner.” 

For a single instant the two men sat in their sad- 
dles gazing at each other. The cavalier had his 
back to the east, holding the reins lightly in his left 
hand, while he kept his right at his side. 

•“Your prisoner! Are you mad?” he asked. 

• “No. Don’t flatter yourself you can deceive me. 
I arrest you in the name of the State, so just hold 
out your hands for these bracelets !” taking from his 
coat-pocket a pair of handcuffs. 

He touched the flank of his horse with his heel, 
and the animal took a step forward. The cavalier 


Mysteriotis Mr. Howard. 


2 1 9 


suddenly raised his right arm to a level with the 
face of his would-be captor. There was a blinding 
flash, a stunning report shook the air, both horses 
leaped aside, and Bolls, who for an instant sat bolt 
upright staring at his murderer, dropped from the 
vSaddle into the road. His frightened steed, freed 
from its rider, went thundering away toward Wells- 
ville, and stopped not in his flight until he reached 
the barn of his master. 

The man who had fired the shot quieted his own 
steed by a word and rode up to the side of the man 
he had wslain. The moon rose higher, and through 
the tree-tops the pale rays streamed down on the 
ghastly object lying there in the road. There was 
a round hole in the centre of the forehead, from 
which the dark life-current trickled and moistened 
the dust by his side. His hat, all covered with 
dust, had rolled a foot or two away. 

“ Another fool has tried it and lost. How many 
more will make the attempt?” the mysterious 
stranger muttered ; and turning his horse’s head 
toward the bridge, he crossed it and galloped away. 

The moon rose higher and looked down on the 
dead man, whose hair was moistened by the dew ; 
the noble stream ran on its winding course ; the 
leaves quivered and rustled in the night air. A 
timid hare hopped out into the road, gazed on the 
object a moment, went all around it to reconnoiter, 
and even came near enough to sniff it, then, as if 
appalled, turned and scampered off into the woods ; 
and the dead man lay there in the dusty road, with 
}iis glassy eyes an4 rigid face turned to the sky. 


220 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

UNCLE REUBEN MYSTIFIED. 

There stood at the side of the road, twenty miles 
from Wellsville, a small frame house. There is 
something quaint, odd and primeval about most 
Missouri farmhouses, each seeming to be a distinct 
class of architecture by itself. 

This house stood on a hill, was surrounded by a 
fence made of small poles nailed to stakes driven 
in the ground. A few hazel bushes and some scrub 
oaks, all browned by the early frost and gray in the 
dust, were in the front yard and came up to the 
fence on the outside. A slender field of very poor 
corn glided back from the house to the bottomland 
below. The first story of the house was made of 
logs, then it was topped out half a story higher 
with very rough boards, having a steep, sharp roof 
and a window in each gable end. 

It was a small, plain v house, the white mortar 
which filled the cracks contrasting with the bare, 
brown logs. There was nothing picturesque or 
attractive about this house. At the rear were some 
long corn cribs and a pole stable and shed, adding 
to the miserable appearance of the whole scene. 
Scorched by the suns of summer, swept by the 


MystcrioiLS Mr. Howard. 


2 2 1 


piercing blasts of winter, it was such a place where 
misery might be supposed to reign. 

If it was unpleasant to look upon by daylight, 
how much more might it be at night, with its 
rough gable, without ornament or paint, rising in 
the moonlight above the hazels and low scrub oaks. 
The dead grass and brown hazels in the yard were 
covered with a cold dew, and the shivering air 
seemed to pierce one through. 

The horseman who had slain his would-be captor 
by the bridge galloped up the hill to the broken 
gate and dismounted A dog, which lay in the front 
yard, started up and barked. Tying his horse to a 
post, the horseman advanced toward the door. The 
dog started from his bed under the scrub oak, 
barked furiously and showed his teeth. 

“ Be quiet, sir, be quiet !” said the man. 

The dog at sound of his voice and bold manner 
retreated a few paces, but continued to growl. The 
homicide went to the door and rapped on it with 
his knuckle. There was no sound at first. He 
rapped again louder than before, and some one was 
heard stirring within, and a moment later a voice 
said : 

“ Who ’s there ?” 

“ Fred, Fred, open the door !” 

“ I don’t know ye.” 

“ You will as soon as you see me.” 

There was a sound of a key turning in a lock, the 
door opened just a little, and he caught the glimpse 
of a man in his night-clothes. 

“ Fred, don’t you know me ?” the newcomer asked. 


2 2 2 


Mysterious Mr. Howard, 


“ Why, yes, ir 's — ” 

“ Don’t call names. Say, can I depend on you for 
a while?” 

“ Forever !” 

“Fred, we fought for a common cause side by 
side, fought and lost — ” 

“Yes, it warn’t our fault, though. Ye saved my 
life at th’ risk o’ yer own, an’ hev a bullet mark in 
yer breast fur doin’ it. Now, ef yer in trouble, call 
on me.” 

“ I want to stay forty-eight hours in your attic, 
with no one save you knowing I am there.” 

“Ye kin.” 

“ Is your wife awake ?” 

“ Yes, but Polly will keep the secret.” 

“ And the children ?” 

“ All asleep.” 

“ Don’t let them know I am here.” 

The horse was put in the log stable, the saddle, 
bridle and accoutrements concealed, and for forty- 
eight hours the cavalier took up his abode in the 
attic, while the local officials were scouring the 
country everywhere to find the slayer of Bolls, the 
Chicago detective. 

****** 

When Uncle Reuben Price got his weekly mail 
from Rushville, he lit his pipe and sat down to read 
the news. 

“ There ’s been a murder, Rachel,” said the old 
man, without taking his eyes off the paragraph. 

“ Why, who ’s been killed. Rube ?” 

A man n^nied Bolls ; found lyin’ in th’ road 


Mysterious Air. Howard. 


223 


with a bullet-hole in his head, close to Grand River 
Bridge.” 

“ Bolls? I don’t know any one named Bolls.” 

“ He was from Chicago, an’ is supposed to be one 
o’ Pinkerton’s detectives.” 

“ Who killed him ?” 

“ That ’s what they ’d like t’ find out. S’posed he 
come to Missouri t’ catch some o’ the bank an’ 
train robbers, an’ wuz tryin’ t’ do it.” 

“ Well, for massa sakes ! Don’t it beat all !” 

Uncle Reuben thought so, too, though he did not 
say so. At tea time Aunt Rachel told what Uncle 
Reubeii had read in the papers, and Mrs. Howard 
turned deathly pale, while Flora, who was growing 
thinner every day, listened calmly to the account 
which Uncle Reuben read from the paper. After 
tea she returned to her room, and sat before the 
fire which Cater had built, her mind not on the 
terrible story she had heard, but on her unfortu- 
nate lover. There came a light tap at her door. 
She opened it and saw Mrs. Howard, pale and 
trembling, standing on the threshold, a light shawl 
thrown about her shoulders. 

“ I have just put the children to bed, and thought 
I would come and sit with you awhile.” 

“ Come in, Mrs. Howard ; I am always glad to 
have you. There are so few who can sympathize 
with me.” 

“ Dear child,” said the lady, drawing her head to 
her breast and kissing her pretty cheek ; “ your grief 
is great, but it could be worse.” 

‘‘ How could it be worse ?” 


224 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


“ If Horace was guilty.” 

Flora sank into a chair and covered her face 
with her hand. 

“ All the world has turned against him, Mrs. 
Howard, and yet I love him. I cannot help it. He 
is innocent, and I know it.” 

“ I know it also.” Then for a long time the lady 
sat gazing into the fire. At last, without raising ' 
her eyes, she remarked : “ It was terrible, the kill- 
ing of the detective by the bridge.” 

Flora now recalled the story Uncle Reuben had 
read at tea, and said : 

“ I suppose some one he had tried to capture did 
it. It is an awful thing to take human life.” 

“ Perhaps, after all, the killing was in self-de- 
fense.” 

“ No, it could not have been. The paper states 
that handcuffs were found near the dead officer, and 
it is supposed he was trying to arrest the man who 
shot him.” 

“ But you forget, child, that an arrest with some 
men is equal to murder.” 

“ No. They would have a fair trial.” 

“ A fair trial to them would mean death. The 
man who shot Bplls knew it was his life or Bolls’s 
life, and he slew him in self-defense. Had Bolls 
gone away and left him alone he would not have 
harmed him.” 

Why, Mrs. Howard, how do you know ?” 

“ I don’t know.” 

Then rising, she excused herself and went to her 
room. 


Mysteriozts Mr. Howard. 


225 


Next day three strangers with guns and dogs 
came to the Newburg tavern. One of them ac- 
costed the proprietor with : 

“ Is this Mr. Reuben Price?” 

Uncle Reuben, who stood on his porch, his pipe 
in one hand and the other thrust into his trousers 
pocket for tobacco, answered : 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“We are hunters, Mr. Price. We heard that deer 
were plenty in this part of the country.” 

“ Reckin they air. I don’t never hunt none, but 
hunters come here nearly every fall.” 

“ Can you board us for a few days ?” 

“ I reckin so.” 

“ And our horses ?” 

“ Hev ye got bosses ?” 

“ Yes. They will be here to-morrow.” 

Uncle Reuben thought he could, and called Cater 
to take *in the luggage. The happy old negro 
grinned as he took their hand-bags, guns and am- 
munition up-stairs, saying : 

“ Bet dey find dat Newburg am a big town yit.” 

The wagon which had brought the three men 
from Rushville returned, and the three hunters, 
who gave their names as Park, Jones and Mullins, 
went up to their rooms and closed the door, and 
were not seen until the dinner-bell rang. 

Mrs. Howard complained of headache and did 
not come to dinner. ^ Flora was also indisposed, and 
the three newcomers were all who sat at the table. 
After dinner one of the strangers sauntered on the 
porch, where Uncle Reuben was sitting, and asked : 


226 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


“ Have you been here long?” 

“ Yes,” was the answer. 

“ Do you have many customers ?” 

“ When th’ huntin’ season commences we hev a 
good many, but it’s a little airly yit.” 

“ Are we your only guests?” 

“ No ; there’s my niece upstairs, an’ Missus How- 
ard an’ her children.” 

“ Mrs. Howard !” 

“Yes.” 

“ Has she been here long?” 

“ Over a month.” 

“ Where is she from ?” 

“Don’t know.” 

“A widow?” 

“ No, she ’s got a man.” 

“ Where is he ?” 

“ Don’t know.” 

“ Does he ever come here?” 

“ Oh, yes, he comes right often. Hain’t been here 
fur several days now. I think he ’s buyin’ cattle 
ur land ur somethin’. I never meddle with other 
people’s business.” 

“What kind of a looking man is he? He may 
be an old friend of mine.” 

Uncle Reuben proceeded in his way to describe 
Mr. Howard, and the hunter thought that possibly 
it might be his friend. He would be glad to meet 
him when he came, anyway.* 

The horses came that day, and the next two of 
of the men went into the woods with dogs and 
guns, while the third, Mr. Park, remained at 


Mysterious Mr, Howard, 


227 


the house. The hunters came back empty- 
handed. 

While Cater was feeding the horses, Mr. Mullins, 
who tarried at the barn, asked : 

“ Do you know Mr. Howard, Cater?” 

Yes, sah.” 

What kind of a man is he ?” 

Golly, him am a good man. Him am splendid, 
sah !” 

Does he come to this tavern often ?” 

“ Not berry.” 

“ What time does he come ?” 

“ Mostly when he wants ter,” returned Cater, 
with a grin. “ Den skips off same way.” 

“ Why does he do that, Cater?” 

“ Dun know, boss. Seems like er mighty fine 
man. Gives me lots o' money fur keerin' fur his 
hoss. Ef I only feed ’im and rub ’im down, till the 
ha’r all dry, give dis chile two dollars. I tell ye he 
am a mighty fine man.” 

“ And Mrs. Howard ?” 

“ She am a mighty nice woman, too. Gives 
Cater money for carryin’ wood up ter her room 
an’ pays Aunt Aggy fur takin’ keer ob de chil- 
lun.” 

“ So you think they are real good people ?” 

“ ’Deed I do, boss — I know et.” Cater had a 
strong suspicion that the man was trying to 
“pump” him, and determined that he should gain 
nothing by it. If he had any suspicions in re- 
gard to Mr. Howard, he kept them from the new 
guests. 


228 


Mysteriotis Mr, Howard. 


Every day two of the hunters went into the 
woods and one remained at the house. After the 
first evening Mrs. Howard met them at the table. 
Aunt Rachel introduced her to the new guests, and 
she talked without reserve on all the topics of the 
day, displaying unusual intelligence. Her conver- 
sation was a puzzle to the gentlemen, and they were 
heard discussing her in their room, heard by the 
lady herself, who had her ear to the keyhole of 
their door. 

When the new guests had been at the house two 
or three da3^s, Cater went to Uncle Reuben and 
said : 

“ Unc’ Reuben, dem fellahs ain’t no hunters 
at all. Lem me tell you dem fellahs ain’t no 
hunters.” 

“ How do you know, Cater ?” 

Why, never bring no game. Don’t hab no 
kind ob guns ter kill deah. Got dem Winchesters 
and resolvers and all dem things, Dey ain’t 
hunters.” 

Uncle Reuben, who never tried to solve probr 
lems or unravel mysteries, refilled his pipe and 
smoked in silence. 

Next afternoon, just as the sun was setting be- 
yond those Western hills, blue with the smoke-like 
haze of Indian summer, a solitary horseman came 
slowly riding up the hill to the old tavern. He was 
a strange-looking person, with a Wild- Western air 
about him, resembling a herder of the plains. His 
small black eyes glanced warily about, reconnoiter- 
ing as he advanced. He came to the little stiles in 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


229 


front of the Newburg tavern, and drew rein as if to 
dismount. At this moment the door opened and 
one of the new guests stepped out on the porch. 
He saw the small man with dark eyes, sallow face, 
and black mustache, and, leaping into the yard, 
shouted : 

“ Halt ! Surrender !” 

Before the astounded stranger could wheel his 
horse to fly, the other two hunters, one with a re- 
volver and the other with a Winchester rifle, ran 
into the yard. Uncle Reuben, who was sitting on 
the porch smoking, was filled with astonishment 
and seemed “ grown fast to his chair,” while the 
three deer-hunters shouted : 

“ Halt ! Surrender ! Don’t move a step, or you 
die !” 

The horseman who had just arrived threw him- 
self on the ground, with his steed between him and 
those men in thfe yard, and from under the belly 
and neck of his horse came two flashes of fire and 
two sharp, quick reports. The man dropped the 
rifle, uttered a yell of pain and clapped his left 
hand to his shattered arm. 

Bang ! Bang ! Bang ! rang out shots in quick 
succession from the pistols of the other two. Their 
bullets crashed against the stiles and fence. 

A scene of the wildest confusion ensued. Aunt 
Rachel fled around the house, stumbled, and fell 
into a washtub filled with dirty water, and came 
near being drowned. Aunt Aggy started for the 
spring-house, but was caught under the chin by her 
own clothes-line and brought down. Uncle Reuben 


230 


Alysteriotcs ]\Ir. Howcird. 


dropped his pipe and ran to the barn at a faster 
gait than he had travelled for years. Uncle Cater 
ran to the cellar, and, falling on his knees, began to 
pray : 

“ O Lawd, come down and help us ! O deah 
Lawd, come down right now an’ save ? Come 
yerse’f, deah Lawd ; don’t send yo’ Son dis time, 
foh I tell ye dis ain’t no chile’s play !” 

Flora, hearing Mrs. Howard shrink when the 
firing first began, ran to her room, to find her in a 
dead faint, with her children clinging to her. She 
busied herself restoring the lady to consciousness, 
and really was the only cool person about the 
place. 

All the while from under the neck and belly of 
his horse the sharp cracks of the stranger’s pistol 
continued to ring on the air until he drove his 
would-be captors into the house, then, mounting, he 
galloped away, pursued by a shower of bullets from 
the infuriated guests of Uncle Reuben. The mysti- 
fied landlord lay in the hayloft, yelling at the top 
of his voice for them to quit. 


Mysterious Mr, Howard, 


2 %\ 


CHAPTER XXV. 

ARTHUR AND GRACE. 

Day by day Arthur Westfall found his position 
growing more and more unendurable. He began 
to realize that the wages of sin was death. Every 
kind look, every gentle word of General Hawley 
increased his misery. By close application to the 
bank books he strove to conceal his anguish of soul. 
But even those pages accused him. He never 
opened the books that he did not see the crime he 
was helping to conceal. 

Oh, Heaven !” he groaned when in his room. 
“ What am I to do ? How will all this end ?” 

Some pious person had placed a framed Scrip- 
tural quotation, worked in crimson and gold, over 
the door. No quotation more appropriate to his 
case could have been selected : 

‘‘ He shall call upon me, and I will answer him : I will be 
with him in trouble : I will deliver him and honor him.” — Psalm 
xci. ; verse 15. 

He gazed on those words as if the divine revela- 
tion was, like the handwriting on the wall at the 
feast of Belshazzar, sent for the occasion. Did the 
same promise extend to him ? Was he not so far 


232 Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


gone but that he might be delivered and honored ? 
He read that motto again and again a dozen 
times. 

Arthur’s religious training had not been neg- 
lected. Aunt Becky had always been a conscien- 
tious Christian woman, and did her share to make 
him a Christian youth. But his uncle’s treatment, 
that false accusation, the locking of honest doors, 
against him, had turned him against the world 
and against God. When he asked himself if he 
was not too. far gone to be saved, he remembered 
that his pious old aunt had told him of One able to 
save even to the uttermost. He turned toward the 
corner, strongly inclined to kneel and pray ; but no, 
not yet. How dared he, who was plotting to rob 
and, perhaps, murder, ask God for aid? How dared 
he approach the throne of grace, all polluted with 
sin as he was ? Poor Arthur ! he had a poor concep- 
tion ot Christ’s teaching.' He could not understand 
that his only wa>y to get rid of sin was to go to 
Christ. 

Next day General Hawley was not at the bank. 
Some one said he was slightly indisposed. 

“ He will be out in a day or two,” Meeker de- 
clared in his low tones to the bookkeeper. When 
they were alone that day. Meeker asked ; 

“ By the way, my friend George, have you heard 
anything about the State funds ?” 

No.” 

“ They are a deuced long time about bringing 
them. Have you seen the chief since?" This last 
sentence was uttered after having made a careful 


Mysterioits Mr. Howard. 233 


inspection of the office to see that they were really 
alone. 

“ No.’' 

Arthur answered in monosyllables when he could. 
In fact, he so detested the knave that he could 
hardly endure his presence. 

“ The chief Has his eye on us, my boy. There is 
not a moment that he doesn’t see and hear us, you 
can rest assured of that.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Now, if we go astray, we may expect death.” 

Arthur merely nodded. 

“We are too far in this to back out. You under- 
stand that ?” 

He merely gave him an inquiring glance, as 
much as to say : 

“ Do you contemplate backing out ?” 

“ Now, George,” said the cashier, laying the fore- 
finger of his right hand across the palm of his left, 
“ the most contemptible being living is a traitor. 
He is worse than a thief or a coward. He gains the 
friendship of men, who suppose him their friend, 
and then betrays them.” 

Arthur could with difficulty refrain from saying : 

“ Such a traitor as you, who, for selfish ends, 
would ruin and, perhaps, murder his benefactor, is 
a poor teacher of morals a,nd honor.” He took care 
not to permit his thoughts to find utterance. Ar- 
thur had begun to hope that something might turn 
up to relieve him from this distressing situation. 
Somehow these words, “ He shall call upon me, and 
I will answer him : I will be with him in trouble ; 


234 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


I will deliver him and honor him,” seemed to have 
personal significance. As soon as practicable he left 
the cashier, for he detested him and was in his 
society as little as possible. 

Next day there came a note from General Hawley 
to the bookkeeper, asking him to call at the house 
and bring some papers which he wished to examine 
together with him. Arthur showed the note to 
Meeker, and said : 

“ I must go !” 

“ Certainly. Be very circumspect. Those papers 
have reference to the State funds, and it is possible 
you may learn something about them. Sound the 
old man, my boy, but be very shrewd. He is a cau- 
tious old coon, and will be easily put on his guard. 
Once rouse his suspicions and you will be fired, 
and the whole thing ruined. But you are a fellow 
of good address, modest demeanor, and shrewdness 
enough to carry you through.” 

Arthur bowed coldly, and, at the proper time, 
gathered up the bundle of papers to which the note 
had reference and went to the great hou^e on the 
hill. It was a palatial residence, three full stories 
in height, a fine specimen of modern architecture, 
surrounded by well-laid-out grounds, adorned with 
all the beauties of the floral world which thrive 
in that mild climate. A beautiful fountain cast 
sparkling streams into the air, filling a large basin 
in which some pond lilies grew. 

The heart of the new bookkeeper oeat strangely 
as he approached the great front door and rang the 
bell. A servant appeared, and Arthur sent his 


Jllysterious J/r. Howa 7 'd. 




name to the banker, to whose presence he was at 
once admitted. The General was sitting in his 
great, comfortable arm-chair, looking a little paler 
than usual. He greeted the new bookkeeper with : 

“ How are you, George, my boy ? Glad to see 
you looking so well. Be seated.” 

“ Here are the papers,” began Arthur. 

“ Oh, bother the papers. Lay them on the desk, 
and we will look them over after tea. How is 
everything going at the bank?” 

“ As usual.” 

“Of course it is. I knew it would. I tell you, 
my lad. Meeker is a fine fellow, and has a business 
head on him, too.” Then changing the subject, he 
added : “ I had a slight attack yesterday, but I will 
be out soon. I am getting like an old, worn-out 
horse, not good for much, and must trust to others. 
But with you and Meeker at the bank, 1 feel that 
everything will go right. By the way, do you find 
the books all straight ?” 

Clearing his throat, so as to gain time to collect 
his thoughts, Arthur answered : 

“ I have not been through them yet.” 

“ Well, if there is anything about them which 
you don’t understand, go to Meeker. He has the 
run of the business much better than I. I had 
hoped he would some day be a member of my fam- 
ily, and that our interests would be mutual ; but ” — 
with a sigh — “ it is not to be. To divulge a family 
secret, I had hoped he would be my son-in-law ; 
but Grace— my daughter— I believe, doesn’t fancy 
him.” 


236 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


Arthur started despite himself, his cheek alter- 
nately flushing and paling ; but, fortunately, the 
General’s eyes were not on him. The bookkeeper 
thought he saw a new incentive to the villain’s 
actions. Meeker was actuated by avarice and re- 
venge. Arthur could not but secretly rejoice that 
Grace Hawley had rejected him, for financial ruin, 
even death, was preferable to union with such a 
man. 

Before he could make any answer he heard a 
light footfall, and a voice that ever stirred his soul 
asked : 

Papa, will you have your tea now?” 

“ No, child. I am much better. Come in, Grace. 
This is Mr. Fowler, the new bookkeeper. You 
must excuse Grace, Mr. Fowler. She is an only 
child and is badly spoiled, as is the case with ‘ only 
children.’ She has always been accustomed to bolt- 
ing into her father’s room at all times, without the 
formality of knocking or announcement.” 

Grace bowed. Arthur rose, blushed and bowed, 
muttering in his soft, even tones : 

I believe I saw you the other day. Miss Hawley, 
at the bank.” 

“Yes, sir, I did call for papa. Were you ever 
before in Starkeville, Mr. F'owler?” she asked. 

“No.” 

«“ Then you are quite a stranger.” 

“ I know no one save the bank officers and the 
few people whom I have met at the hotel.” 

“•You must be very lonesome.” 

General Hawley, who had just received the after- 


Mysterious Mr, Howard 237 


noon paper, and probably wished to be alone for 
a while, said : 

“Yes, Grace, of course he is a stranger — a per- 
fect stranger. Make him feel at home. Show him 
to the conservatory, the garden, the picture gal- 
lery ; then go to the parlor, and sing and play for 
him until supper-time, while I look over the paper.” 

Arthur was thunderstruck with the whole-souled 
hospitality of the Missourian, but recollecting the 
object of his visit, with many blushes and stam- 
mers, said : 

“ But the papers — ” 

“ Oh, hang the papers ! We will attend to them 
after tea. Work ! Work ! I never saw such a man. 
Take him away, Grace, or he will be worked to 
death, and then the bank will be guilty of homi- 
cide.” With this he snatched up his paper and 
turned toward the window, and Grace, with a win- 
some smile, which displayed her white, even teeth, 
took his arm, saying : 

“ Papa is accustomed to being obeyed.” 

They went. His head was in a whirl, and his 
heart beak as it never had before. Ere he knew it, 
this fairy creature had him in the flower garden, 
and was showing him the beauties of the floral 
world, praising their fragrance and beauty. Arthur, 
who was passionately fond of flowers, was delighted. 
He soon forgot the dark plot, the dark past, and 
lived only in the present. Her free manner put 
him quite at ease, and he found himself talking on 
all subjects in which Miss Hawley was most inter- 
ested. 


238 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


They found themselves in the parlor, where she 
played and sang for him, and then they talked of 
poetry and the latest novel, which he hM not read, 
but of which she gave him a brief synopsis. It was 
about a poor young man, who, in ill-fortune, was 
abandoned by his friends, and* in an evil moment 
united himself with a band of burglars. The story 
was so like his own that he almost fancied she was 
telling him a part of his own life. 

“ Do you know, Mr. Fowler,'’ she said, “ that your 
voice seems strangely familiar to me ?” 

At first he could hardly convince himself that he 
was not recognized. While his face was masked on 
that night the train was robbed, he had taken no 
precaution to disguise his voice. He did not ven- 
ture to speak at once, but in a few seconds, having 
gained control of himself, he answered : 

“ You have no doubt heard a similar voice. Miss 
Hawley, but I don’t believe you ever saw me be- 
fore.” 

“ Perhaps not, but your voice recalls something in 
the past. I must have heard it in a dream. Do you 
believe in dreams ?” 

I cannot say I do. I have read and heard of 
dreams being strangely fulfilled, but never had any 
such experience.” 

“ Nor I. Yet many times in everyday life some- 
thing will recall a long-forgotten or dimly remem- 
bered dream, just as your voice reminds me of some- 
thing in the past. I can’t remember how it is 
connected with my dream, but it is strangely 
familiar.” 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 239 


“ Miss Hawley, if my voice has been heard in 
your dreams, I sincerely hope it may long linger 
among your waking memories.” 

“ Oh, don’t grow poetical !” she broke in, with a 
laugh. “ Do you enjoy the theatre ?” 

“Very much. My opportunities of witnessing 
the best talent the stage produces have been some- 
what limited.” 

“ They always are in small towns like this, but 
we make up theatre parties when there is any extra 
attraction in St. Louis or Chicago. Now as soon as 
you get through with the rush in those horrid 
books, you will go with us, won’t you ?” sho asked, 
with the earnestness of a child trying to persuade 
an older brother. Go ? Of course he would go, and 
was quite profuse in his thanks for the invitation. 

“ If the business at the bank will permit,” he 
added, cautiously. 

“ Surely you can take a day off. We start one 
noon and are back the next. We charter our car, 
and none but our party are allowed to go in it. I 
am very fond of the opera, and we have promise of 
the Italian prima donna at St. Louis early this sea- 
son. We must not miss that.” 

He also was passionately fond of the opera, and 
would be delighted to go. The tea-bell rang, and 
she hurried him to the dining-room. There he met 
the mother, a sweet, mild old lady of that noble, 
intelligent class of females who make American 
homes happy. Arthur was made to feel welcome, 
and astonished himself by laughing and gh^tting, 
just as anybody elsQ would have done, 


240 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


After tea, Grace assisted him to look over the pa- 
pers, and he made some explanations to the banker, 
then chess was proposed, and a very enjoyable even- 
ing was spent. 

Arthur left, head over heels in love, and when 
he awoke to the awful reality of his situation, he 
was almost insane. 

“God deliver me! What am I doing?” he 
groaned. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

MEEKER POINTS OUT ARTHUR’S DiVNGER. 

Those peaceful, drowsy days of Indian Summer 
seemed never to have an end. The blue hills of 
the West, the hazy sky, the soft, balmy air, were 
productive of that delightful enmd called laziness. 
The birds were still among the trees, the flowers 
still bloomed, and summer seemed loth to leave 
such a delightful spot. 

Arthur Westfall, who took early walks about the 
fields, was thrilled by the plowboy’s whistle. He 
heard the mechanic laughing and jesting at his 
work, and often thought : 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


241 


“ How happy his lot, how miserable mine !” 

The morning after his visit to the Hawley man- 
sion he was at his place at business hours. His 
shoes were gray with the dust of the morning 
walk, and he paused at a bootblack’s stand on the 
sidewalk to have them cleaned, then hastened to 
his desk. Early as he was, Meeker was before him. 
He nodded and smiled familiarly to Arthur, but as 
two clerks were within ear-shot he said nothing. 

The day dragged slowly on. Business cares ab- 
sorbed the attention of all connected with the es- 
tablishment. General Hawley did not come to the 
bank that day, and when all had gone from the 
building after business hours, save Meeker and 
Arthur, the cashier went to the side of the book- 
keeper and asked : 

“ How was the old man last night.?” 

“ Improving.” 

Did you talk much with him ?” 

^^Yes.” 

“ About the State funds ?” 

“ Some.” 

What did he say ?” 

“ They will come soon.” 

‘‘ Soon — how soon ?” 

He doesn’t know.” 

‘‘The chief is*getting impatient.” 

“ You have seen him ?” asked Arthur, turning 
deathly pale. 

“ Yes.” 

“When?” 

“ Last night.” ‘ ' 1 


242 


M) 's ter 20 us M r. How a rd. 


“ What did he say ?” 

“Says he wants the State funds.” 

“ But they are not here.” 

“ I know it.” 

Meeker frowned, turned away and muttered some 
unintelligible words at the delay. After a few 
moments he turned to Arthur, and in a low voice 
asked : 

“ Do you know he is growing suspicious ?” 

“The chief?” 

“ Yes.” 

“Of whom is he suspicious ?” 

“ Everybody.” 

Arthur gave him a stare, and he continued : 

“ He seems to think that Hawley has got onto 
the secret, and will not bring the State funds to 
the bank.” 

“ It is impossible for General Hawley to have any 
suspicions yet.” 

“ He did not try to pump you, did he ?” 

“No.” 

“ Did he mention me ?” 

“ He spoke of you in the highest terms.” 

The cashier was flattered, and smiled wickedly 
as he said : 

“ Aye, my boy, if he knew all he would have an 
exalted opinion of me.” 

Arthur dared not attempt to reply. He closed 
the books and, rising, said he must go to his room. 

“Are you not anxious to knov/ what the chief 
said ?” asked Meeker. 

“ Di(J he §ay anything of me ?” 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


243 


“ Yes.” 

“ What ?” 

“ Said he hoped you would make no blunder in 
this.” 

“ Have I ever blundered?” 

‘‘ No, but you are young and inexperienced.” 

“ If he doubts me, let him remove me.” 

“ No, no. You don’t understand me. There is no 
doubting at all. Yet you have not had a great deal 
of experience, you understand, and there might 
come things which you could not understand.” 

“ In that case, I have you and the chief to refer 
to for instructions.” 

“ Certainly.” 

Arthur got away as soon as he could, and as he 
went to his room he thought : 

“ I believe the rascal begins to fear I am an honest 
man.” 

The sun had not yet set, and Arthur, armed with 
a stout stick, decided to take a walk down the long 
road which led from the town, and cross the bridge 
spanning the stream and across the hill beyond. 
His brain seemed on fire, and he walked rapidly, as 
if trying to run away from himself. The good-night 
songs of the birds were unheard, for his soul was 
too full of agony to drink in the sweet melodies of 
nature. No member of that band of cutthroats 
with whom cruel fate had linked his fortunes was 
so wholly repulsive to him as Calvin Meeker. They, 
like himself, might have been driven to despera- 
tion by personal wrongs ; but here was a man, 
honored, respected and trusted, a man whom no one 


244 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


had wronged, deliberately plotting to rob and, per- 
haps, murder his benefactor. 

He crossed the bridge, passed- over the hill, and 
was in a lane, with a hedgerow on either side. The 
sun was setting, and the farmers had already un- 
harnessed their horses and gone home. The eastern 
sky had already grown darker and a star had ap- 
peared, when he turned about to retrace his steps. 
Suddenly the sound of a horse’s feet fell on his ear. 
He cast a furtive glance over his shoulder and saw 
a horseman coming toward him. In a moment the 
man was at his side, and a gruff, familiar voice said : 

“ Hello ! That you ?” 

With a shudder he recognized the terrible train- 
robber, Bill. Bill leaped from the saddle to his 
side and said : 

“ How air y^, anyway ?” 

“All right.” 

“ Good ! The boss gits kind a little uneasy about 
ye sometimes.” 

“ Why ?” 

“’Fraid ye’ll make a blunder an’ git jugged. 
But don’t ye git scared ’f they do, fur we boys ’ll 
git ye out. Th’ jail at Starkeville won’t hold one- 
o’ us boys long.” 

Arthur had never thought of a prison before, 
and it made him shudder. The disgrace of ar- 
rest and imprisonment, which had had such little 
terrors for him before, now that he had become ac- 
quainted with Grace Hawley, unnerved him. She 
would then know that he was a common thief. 
At last he asked : 


Mysterioits Mr. Howard. 


245 


“What are you doing here? Is it not danger- 
ous?” 

With a reckless, defiant laugh, Bill answered : 

“ No. Ain’t no un in these parts as knows me. 
Why, I rid right up ter ther saloon and tuk a drink. 
Hev ye seen Bob Maddox ter-day ?” 

“ No.” 

“Wall, d’ye know anything ’bout them State 
funds?” 

“ Only that they expect them soon.” 

“ An’ ye don’t know how soon ?” 

“ No.” 

“ Wall, ther boss is scratchin’ his head mightily.” 

“ He will have to scratch. I can’t hurry the mat- 
ter any, and when they come he will be informed.” 

Bill remounted and rode away, and Arthur re- 
turned to his hotel. A day or two later business 
again called him to the mansion of General Haw- 
ley, and he once more met Grace. She had a new 
novel, which she had just finished and gratefully 
gave to him to read, asking him for a critical 
opinion of it. When he had read it, he returned it 
and gave a sensible criticism of the work, and they 
strolled in the garden; and somehow, before he 
knew it, he asked if he could come again, and she 
answered in the affirmative. He went, and once 
more listened to the music of her sweet voice, 
which to him was enchanting. Oh, happy hours ! 
oh, miserable hours ! they dwell in his memory yet, 
stealing the ^sweets of heaven, with the conscious- 
ness of a yawning hell at his feet. He can never 
forget those long autumn days, when it seemed as 


246 


Mysteriotis Mr. Hoivard. 


though heaven and earth united in one untiring 
jubilee ; when the rich, warm air that fanned the 
heated cheek was burdened with the aroma of 
ripened fruit, far more delightfully intoxicating 
than cider or wine ; when nature seemed strewing 
every inch of earth’s broad bosom with a matured 
beauty more lovely than the boast of May or June. 
Man.y a pleasant and many a terrible reminiscence 
does he cherish of that brightest and darkest of all 
periods of his life. 

One day when they were in the flower garden, 
where many of her late beauties were still in bloom, 
she seated herself on a rustic bench, and, looking 
up in his face, asked : 

“ Mr. Fowler, did you ever have cause to feel 
grateful toward a stranger ?” 

He gazed on her beautiful face, which was now 
all seriousness, and answered : 

“ I have, on several occasions — ” 

“ But suppose you were in great peril some time, 
and a mysterious, unknown person should save 
your life at the risk of his own, could you ever for- 
get him ?” 

He was trembling so his limbs could hardly sup- 
port him, and seated himself opposite her and 
stammered : 

“ I was never placed in such a position, but if I 
ever should be, I certainly would feel exceedingly 
grateful.” 

She bowed her pretty head on her hand a mo- 
ment, and her eyes grew dim as she continued : 

“ People cannot tell how they would feel until 


Mysterious Mr. Hoiuard. 


247 


they have undergone my terrible experience. 1 
was once on a midnight train, with no one whom I 
knew. The train was signalled, stopped and boarded 
by great, dark monsters, wearing black masks over 
their faces, uttering such terrible threats as to make 
the blood run cold to think of them. One monster, 
seeming more cruel and terrible than the rest, after 
plundering me of all the money and jewelry I pos- 
sessed, demanded my earrings, which I could not 
take out. He drew a fearful looking-knife, and was 
about to cut them out of my ears, when a noble 
stranger came to my rescue.” 

“ Did you learn his name ?” 

“ No. I would give much to know him, although 
he was one of the robbers. He must have a brave 
and noble heart.” 

After a few moments to recover himself, he 
asked : 

“ What would you do if you knew his name, and 
knew where he was ?” 

“ I would reward him. First I would persuade 
him to quit such a life. One so brave and noble 
cannot have a bad heart, and he might be persuaded 
to lead a different life.” 

The voice of the bookkeeper was too husky and 
his throat too full for him to venture to speak, and 
she went on : 

‘‘ I did not see his face, for, like the others, he 
wore a mask, but it must have been noble ; the 
voice, so brave and commanding and yet so soft and 
tender to a girl in distress, would indicate a noble 
soul.” 


248 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


“ If he should quit the life he leads, and resolved 
to do better,” Arthur ventured, after a few moments, 
“ what would it benefit him ? The laws he has 
broken demand his life and liberty.” 

But he might go away to some distant land and 
begin life anew.” 

“ He would be hunted by detectives wherever he 
went, seized at last and brought back.” 

She was silent for a moment, and then said : 

“ I know the Governor. He is an intimate friend 
of ours, and if this man was young in years, and 
not so very bad, he might be pardoned.” 

Arthur almost started from his seat. Strange he 
had never before even thought of a pardon. He 
had never before seen any escape, save in the prison 
and death. After a few moments she changed the 
subject by saying : 

“ Have you read of the young man Horace Rath- 
burne, in prison afStandish for bank robbery?” 
He answered in the affirmative, and she continued : 
“ It is a sad story. He declares he is innocent, and 
his sweetheart believes him. The dear girl visits 
him despite her father’s opposition. How I wish I 
knew her and could console her in her grief.” 

They talked until the stars were out and the 
evening air was chilly, then he insisted on her going 
in the house. 

Next day, just as the bookkeeper was -about to 
close his books and leave the bank, Mr. Meeker, 
with a smile, said : 

“A word with you, George. They are. all gone 
but us, and the building is locked.” 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


249 


“ What have you to say ?” 

“ You are carrying your good behavior a little too 
far.” 

“ I don’t understand you.” . 

“To be more plain, there is danger in the way 
you are carrying your flirtation with Miss Haw- 
ley.” 

“ Is she to marry you?” 

“ I don’t know,” he stammered. 

“ I could not supersede you if she was.” 

“ That is not the danger I want to warn you 
against,” said Mr. Meeker, clearing his throat. 
“ The chief knows of this ; he fears there will be 
an attachment and that you, in a fit of love, may 
act the fool and give us away.” 

Arthur, with a reckless laugh, said something 
about there being no danger, and so terminated the 
interview. As they were going away. Meeker 
placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder and 
whispered : 

“ Beware ; don’t go ne^r her if you can help it. 
It may be only a plot to entrap you.” 

. Arthur went to his room in the hotel, and gazing 
on the motto, read it with a new meaning, and in 
his heart cried : 

“ God help me, it shall not be done-T If I die I 
will warn that good man and save his life and prop- 
erty. I may hang for this, and the least I can ex- 
pect is the penitentiary, but, God be praised, I will 
do the right.” 

Then a joy, a holy peace such as he had never 
known came over his soul. He took the handker- 


250 


Mysterions Mr, Howard, 


chief from his pocket, on the corner of which was 
the stain of the blood from the wounded forehead 
of the girl he had saved, kissed it, repeated anew 
his vow, and feeling now that he could approach 
God in prayer, fell upon his knees to ask Him to 
keep him steadfast in his new purpose. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 
flora’s new suitor. 

For three or four days after the exciting events 
narrated in chapter twejity-four. Uncle Reuben’s 
tavern was very quiet. The mysterious guests de- 
parted, taking the wounded man with them, with- 
out giving a word of explanation. There camera 
rumor from Rushville, where they boarded the 
train, that they were not deer hunters, but Chicago 
detectives. Mrs. Howard, who had been most af- 
fected by the event, became very reticent after it 
was all over, and she learned that no one was killed 
or captured. 

“ Who could that stranger be whose approach 
caused such commotion ?” asked Flora of Mrs. 
Howard. 


Mysterious ]\Ir. Howard, 


251 


“ I cannot say,” she answered. 

“ Perhaps he was one with whom they had quar- 
reled.” 

“ Probably. I trust no more such events may 
take place.” 

Cater, who had been frightened as badly as any 
one, declared that he was perfectly cool all the time 
and not “ fooled ” in the three strangers. Shaking 
his gray head, he told Aunt Aggy he knew why 
they had com'e to Newburg, and what made them 
act so mysteriously. 

Wut ye talkin’ about, Cater? Ye doan know 
nuffin’ ’tail about et.” 

“ Now, bless yer soul. Aunt Aggy, reckin’ I knows 
all about et.” 

“ Whut ye know, anyhow ?” 

“ Well, dem udder towns, Chicago an’ St. Louis, 
am gittin’ mighty envious o’ Newburg, ’cause she ’s 
gettin’ prosperous, an’ dey hire dese three men ter 
com an’ drive all custom away, ter give a bad name 
to a ’spectable place.” 

Some other surmises were very little short of old 
Cater’s. 

Three or four days after the sudden departure 
of the three guests. Cater went to Rushville, and 
brought Flora a letter bearing the post-mark of 
Standish. It was in the handwriting of her lover, 
and her heart bounded with joy at sight of it. 

“ Does it contain good news or bad?” she asked, 
gazing 'on the missive. She broke the seal, and 
took the letter out. It contained several pages 
closely written, and was filled with tender expres- 


252 


Mysterzotis Mr. Howard. 


sions, though there was scarcely a ray of hope in it 
from beginning tb end. Among other things he 
said : 

“My preliminary examination was held yester- 
day, and I am remanded to jail to await the action 
of the Grand Jury. They will find a bill against 
me. Two witnesses swore positively they saw me 
and recognized me as one of the robbers. I think 
if my lawyer had cross-examined them more care- 
fully, they would have admitted the possibility of a 
doubt. This, with an alibi, would have acquitted 
me beyond question. The alibi is the most difficult 
thing to prove. On that particular afternoon I was 
traveling in company with a stranger who called 
himself Grogan. He was a man of thirt5^-five or 
forty years of age, with blue eyes, and dark-brown 
whiskers, neatly trimmed. I particularly remember 
him by his riding a roan horse, with one ear as 
black as jet. I think it was the left ear that was 
black. However, I am not certain as to that. 
Where he lived he did not tell me. Where he is 
to be found I cannot say, but a shrewd man, by lib- 
eral advertising, could find him. My lawyer tried 
it, but he is wholly incompetent to handle so im- 
portant a matter. I am unable to secure a better 
one, however, and must trust him. It is hard to 
know that one is innocent yet unable to convince 
the world ; but let us hope the sun may yet dispel 
these dense clouds, and warm our hearts with hapr 
piness/’ 

She dropped the letter in her lap and wept 
awhile, then, drying her tears, began seriously to 
consider the matter. 

“ He is unfortunate in being poor and uninfluen- 
tial. He needs a lawyer, one capable to handle so 
important a case, and he shall have one, Colonej. 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


253 


\ 


John W. Hale, my mother’s cousin, is one of the 
best lawyers in Missouri ; he is especially fond of 
me, and I will enlist his interest in Horace.” 

She took the matter under consideration for a 
day or two, then summoned Mrs. Howard to a con- 
sultation in her room. 

“ Mrs. Howard, I am going to take a journey. 
Will you go with me ?” she asked. 

“Where?” 

“To Starkeville.” 

“ That is a long way off.” 

“ Seventy-five miles, I believe, and we will have 
to make it in a private conveyance, for there are no 
railroad connections ; but I will defray all the ex- 
penses of the journey.” 

Mrs. Howard bowed her white face a moment in 
thought, as if she was studying the matter over. 
Finally she asked : 

“ How long shall we be gone ?” 

“ Four days; perhaps five.” 

“ What shall I do with the children ?” 

“ Leave them with Aunt Rachel.” 

After another brief silence, Mrs. Howard said : 

“ I will give you my answer in the morning,” 

“ That will do.’’ 

Mrs. Howard went to her room that night, and 
Cater afterward declared that when all the house 
save himself was buried in slumber she rose and 
stole from the house ; that he watched her trip 
down the road through the wood pasture, where 
the “ ha’nted church ” stood, to hold communion 
with evil spirits. But everybody knew that Cater 


254 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


possessed a most fertile imagination, and due allow- 
ance was made for him. 

Next morning Mrs. Howard told Flora that she 
would accompany her. 

“ Heaven bless you, my good friend !” cried Flora, 
throwing her arms about her neck. “ What would 
I do but for you ?” 

“ Have you ever been to Starke ville ?” asked Mrs. 
Howard. 

No.” 

“ Have you met this cousin of yours — Colonel 
Hale ?” 

‘‘ Frequently. He has visited at our house. His 
daughter Anne and I were at boarding school to- 
gether, and we love each other like sisters.” 

“ Did you ever hear her speak of Mr. Meeker?” 
asked Mrs. Howard. 

“No. Who is he?” 

“ A person living in Starkeville.” But as Flora 
was not interested in him no further reference was 
made to him. 

Mrs. Howard and Flora began to make arrange- 
ments for the journey, and hoped to be able to start 
in three days. A liveryman at Rushville who 
owned an open carriage, among his other equi- 
pages, was engaged to take them. Aunt Rachel, 
who mildly opposed the scheme at first, was finally 
won over to it, and did all in her power to help the 
travellers get ready. Uncle Reuben, who never 
favored nor seriously opposed anything, grumbled 
some, then smoked his pipe in silence. 

On the day before the intended departure of 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


^5S 


Flora and Mrs. Howard for Starkeville, an important 
event transpired, which we dare not omit. It was 
the arrival of Mr. Josiah Hunt. He came in a 
strictly business-like manner, and was so thoroughly 
absorbed in his avocation that he had omitted to 
leave his scissors at home, while the tape with 
which he measured articles was rolled up in his vest 
pocket. It was the middle of the afternoon when 
he reached Rushville, and engaging a carriage and 
driver, was taken at once to Newburg. When he 
alighted he approached Uncle Reuben very much 
as he would a new customer, with a smile and a 
“ cheapest in the market" expression on his face. 
Uncle Reuben listened to him with indifference 
while he was telling who he was, and at the conclu- 
sion asked : 

“ Do ye want V stay here awhile ?" 

“ Well, yes, for just a vshort time. Does a young 
lady stop with you named Miss Flora Wells?" 

“ Yes — she ’s my niece." 

“ I want to see her." 

“ I think she ’s up in ’er room. I ’ll send Aggy 
t’ see, ’f ye want me to." 

“ Not at present, not at present, sir. Let me go 
to my room, get washed and brush the dust from 
my clothes. It is not very comfortable travelling^ 
I assure you.’" 

“ Cater — Cater !" 

Yes, sah !" 

Cater came from the kitchen, and on seeing the 
new guest, clasped his hands mentally and ex- 
claimed : 


256 


Mysterious Mi\ Howa7'd. 


“ Anodder one, bress de Lawd ! Why, Unc 
Reuben done gwine t’ git rich, I reckin.” 

“ Cater, take this man’s things up t’ th’ north 
room,” said Uncle Reuben, rubbing the end of a 
match against the post to light his pipe. 

Cater cast a glance at the man who had just ar- 
rived, and taking up his hand-bag, told him to 
“ toiler,” and led the way up the stairs to the room 
designated by Uncle Reuben as the north room. 
Placing the hand-bag gingerly on the floor, he 
stared at the merchant. 

“ What are you looking at me for, you ace of 
spades ?” asked Josiah. 

“ Say, boss, ye ain’t anodder one ?” 

“ Another what ?” 

Anodder fellar whut be raisin’ de debil in New- 
burg, whut pertended ter be deer-hunters an’ aint ?” 

“ Have you had any who pretended to be deer- 
hunters and were not?” 

“ ’Deed we did, boss, an’ dey a’most scart de life 
out ob ebberybody but dis chile.” 

“ How ?” 

“ Dey was a-stayin’ heah quiet like, an’ one day er 
man come ridin’ up ter stay all night, an’ dey jist 
jumps fur dar revolvers an’ went ter blazin’ erway. 
Aunt Rachel, she fell in a tub o’ soapsuds ; Aggy 
most sawed her head off on a clothes-line, an’ Unc’ 
Reuben climbed inter de stable loft ; but, golly ! 
dis chile jis run right out dar an’ make um quit dat 
foolin’.” 

“What became of those interesting parties?” 
asked Josiah. 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


257 


“ Guess dey got scart at me, boss, fur dey all went 
off, an’ gone — don’t know wha’.” 

Not relishing the company of Cater, whom he 
suspected to be a champion liar, he dispatched him 
for a pitcher of water, and the old man went away, 
murmuring : 

“ Hope ter goodness dis one ain’t like de odders, 
nohow !” 

He returned, placed the water at the disposal of 
Mr. Hunt, and left him alone. Josiah, with all his 
business qualifications and business tact, realized 
that he was engaged on rather extraordinary busi- 
ness, and that more than ordinary care was neces- 
sary to please this fastidious customer. Mr. Josiah 
Hunt believed that if there was a man in all the 
great State of Missouri who thoroughly understood 
women, it was himself. Had he not sold them cali- 
coes, linens and silks since he was high enough to 
reach the counter ? And if a retail dry goods clerk 
does not understand a woman’s whims, who 
does ? 

Mr. Hunt was always neat and tidy. His shirt 
front was immaculate, and his sleeves, collars and 
cuffs perfection, while his aristocratically small 
hands were white, and just what a lady customer 
would admire. When he had arranged his toilet 
to suit the most fastidious taste, he went to Pdora’s 
room to announce his arrival. She was not very 
much astonished, for she had witnessed his arrival 
from the window, and was puzzling her brain to 
find some excuse for his presence. She greeted him 
in a friendly and formal manner, but nothing more ; 


258 


Mysterious Mr. Hoivard. 


that, however, to a tusiness man like Mr. Hunt, 
was sufficient. 

After a few preliminary remarks in regard to her 
health, happiness and the weather, Mr. Hunt 
launched out upon the object of his visit in a most 
business-like manner. 

I regret. Miss Wells,” he said, “ not to have 
been able to come sooner to make this proposition, 
but our fall and winter stock has just arrived, and 
we were busy invoicing, so I was compelled to defer 
it until that was over and he involuntarily drew a 
pencil from his vest pocket as if about to add up a 
long column of figures. “ But now that I am here, 
I will make amends for the delay by coming at 
once to business. I mentioned the matter to your 
father, and he approves of it, as any business man 
would. You see it is thought better for us to ex- 
tend our business. Now the uniting of two such 
houses as Hunt and Wells would make a firm in 
Missouri that would be a power.” 

Flora gazed at him in astonishment, wondering 
what she could have to do with the co-partnership 
of Hunt and Wells. But he soon explained to her 
that this union was to come about out of the ordi- 
nary business way. 

“You see. Miss Wells,” he added, spreading his 
immaculate white linen handkerchief before him, 
as if it was a bolt of silk from which he was to cut 
a dress-pattern, “ I have known you for a long time, 
and have always admired ypu. I knew you were an 
estimable young lady, and that you would make a 
desirable wife, but before I could mention the mat- 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


259 


ter to you I learned that your father’s chief clerk 
had spoken to you on the subject, and was dis- 
charged for his. presumption. Now that he has met 
with this recent misfortune, of course you will not 
think of keeping your part of the engagement with 
him, so I have come to offer my hand.” 

She gazed at him in amazement. This cool, off- 
hand, business-like manner of wooing not only 
astonished her, but filled her with indignation. 
After taking some time to gain her self-possession, 
she answered : 

“ Mr. Hunt, you are too much a man of business 
to appreciate what the world is sometimes pleased 
to call sentimentalism ; yet there are some who be- 
lieve the hand should not be given without the 
heart, and I am one of those persons. While I have 
long known you as a worthy business man, honor- 
able and upright in every respect, I can never be 
your wife.” 

“ Why, Miss Wells, I assure you that a better 
bargain — ” 

“ Hold, Mr. Hunt, you are neither buying nor 
selling goods now.” 

“Miss Wells, you cannot entertain any desire for 
the man in jail for robbery !” 

These words were the Promethean spark that 
kindled the fire of indignation in the maiden’s 
breast, and, in a voice of command, she cried : 

“ Silence, sir !” 

“ He is a thief — ” 

“ Mr. Hunt, leave my presence.” 

“ What !” he cried, in amazement. 


26 o 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


“ Go, I say ! There is the door, go !” and no hero- 
ine in tragedy ever uttered the command in a 
sterner voice. He glanced at her, astonished and 
hot with anger to think that Horace in jail was pre- 
ferred to him ; but Josiah was a gentleman, even if 
he was a little hasty in temper, and he made a cold 
bow and left the room. 

Uncle Reuben was called, and Cater sent to har- 
ness the horse to the old rockaway. Nothing could 
induce him to wait until morning, and that very 
night he was driven to the station, and took the 
midnight train for Huntsville. 

‘‘ ’Clar ter goodness, dar mo’ curious folks cornin’ 
ter Newburg dan dis chile evah heah tell on afore,” 
declared old Cater, as he drove the rockaway home. 


Mysterioits Mr. Howard. 


261 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE ROAN HORSE WITH THE BLACK EAR. 

It was not much annoyance to Flora, and before 
morning she had forgotten it.’ Her whole mind 
was occupied with one object — that was the 
man riding the roan horse with the black ear. The 
I'ider of that steed could save Horace from either 
death or a long term at penal servitude. Since re- 
ceiving his letter she had thought of nothing but 
the roan horse with a black ear. She had dreamed 
of it, and often found herself gazing down the road, 
hoping to see the horse and rider coming toward 
the old tavern. 

The eventful morning of their departure came, 
and the carriage — one of those large, modern-styled 
vehicles built phaeton fashion — was at the door for 
them. Mrs. Howard bade her children an affec- 
tionate adieu, consigned them to the care of Aunt 
Rachel and the Lord, and took her seat by the side 
of Flora, who was already in the carriage. The 
driver sat in the front seat, holding the reins, while 
the pair of bays attached to the vehicle stamped 
with impatience. 

“ Good-bye !” cried Mrs. Howard to Uncle Reuben 
and Aunt Rachel. Tossing kisses to her children. 


262 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


she cried : “ God bless you, little ones, and keep you 
until mamma returns !” 

The carriage rolled away, and the old tavern, 
with its weather-beaten sign, was soon lost to view. 
Flora will never forget that journey, and how ten- 
der and careful Mrs. Howard was with her. She 
breathed words of comfort and consolation in her 
ears when no one else dared. Had not Flora been 
constantly tormented with her lover’s peril, the 
journey would have been pleasant. The weather 
was warm — almost as warm as summer. Mar- 
guerites and golden-rods lined the road, and the 
odors from the orchards burdened with ripened 
fruit rivaled May and June. The tall corn, with its 
matured blades, rustled in the gentle breeze. 

They passed a large farmhouse on the hill. A 
man in his shirt-sleeves was sitting on the stiles, an 
ax at his side and a wood-pile near. A large, yel- 
low dog barked at them. There was a horse-pond 
in the lowlands on the left. An old horse was 
standing in the water to cool his legs, slashing the 
flies with his tail. Their carriage rolled on and 
crossed the bridge that spanned the creek. The 
scenery was varied, and to Flora it seemed one con- 
stant shifting panorama. Hills and forests gave 
way to gentle, undulating prairies with vast farms 
and rich fields, and these in turn gave place to more 
hills and forests. At noon they came to a small in- 
land village. The spire of the little church could 
be seen for many miles away, for it was on the 
highest bit of ground in the village. When they 
entered the village the blacksmith was shoeing a 


AlysteriOMS Air. Howard. 263 


farmer’s horse. The farmer, in shirt-sleeves, stood 
at the animal’s head, holding him, and switching 
the flies away with a horse-tail brush. There were 
two or three general stores in the place, with their 
square fronts and porches, on which sat two or 
three men engaged in gossiping, or discussing 
politics. 

There was a small inn at the farther end of the 
town, where they made a halt for dinner. The 
landlord was a tall, lank man, with high cheek- 
bones and a few whiskers on his chin. He called a 
boy to assist the driver in feeding and grooming 
the horses, and our two travellers were shown to a 
room where they could wash the dust from their 
faces and rest awhile. Then the dinner-bell rang. 
It was a plain, substantial repast, and the morning 
ride had given the travellers an appetite. After a 
short hour’s “ nooning,” the horses were once more 
harnessed to the carriage, and all parties refreshed, 
resumed their journey. Sometimes their road was 
broad and smooth, showing evidence of frequent 
travel, and sometimes it was dim and uncertain, 
with misleading finger boards. 

Paschal, the driver, who boasted of his knowl- 
edge, not only of that road, but of roads in general, 
was often compelled to halt farmers going to and 
from their work and inquire the way. The prairies, 
with their smooth, level paths, again gave way to 
belts of timber, creeks and hills. If the carriage 
rattled at a dangerous rate down one hill, it was 
drawn at a creeping pace up another, while the heat 
and dust became almost stifling. Paschal was a 


264 Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


very accommodating coachman, and did all in his 
power for the comfort of the fair travellers. ' He 
stopped at a small farmhouse to ask for a glass of 
cold water for the thirsty ladies, and the tall, hard- 
featured woman, whose very face told of a life of 
toil and privation, said such as they had she would 
give. 

“ I hev t’ pack* every drap o’ water we git frum 
th’ pond er quarter away.” 

The water was so stale and so warm that the 
ladies preferred to wait until some better could be 
found, although their throats were parched and 
dry. Night found the travellers in a very lonely 
part of the country, al one of those old-fashioned 
roadside inns now almost extinct, and even then 
very rare. Flora did not like the looks of that 
great, old, lonesome house, and asked Paschal to go 
on, but he said it was ten miles to the next town, 
and it would be impossible to make it that night. 
The landlord was a savage-looking man with fierce, 
dark eyes, who. Flora declared, would murder one 
for twenty-five cents ; but Mrs. Howard only laughed 
at her fears, and said she was frightened at ap- 
pearances ; and they must put up with that place 
anyway, for they could reach no other that night. 
They were all tired and expressed a desire to go to 
bed early ; so, shortly after ‘‘ candle-light,” they 
were shown upstairs to their sleeping apartments. 
A long, narrow hall ran the length of the house in 
the upper story, and Flora was given a room on the 
opposite side from Mrs. Howard’s. In Flora’s room 

* Pack is a term used among the illiterate for carry. 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


265 


there was nothing but a bed, two chairs and a very 
large, heavy chest, while the door was without any 
kind of fastening, not even a latch, but she managed 
to pull the chest in front of it, so that no one could 
open it without awaking her. 

Poor Flora was so nervous and excited that, not- 
withstanding she was tired, she did not go to sleep 
until midnight. Then she was only dozing, when 
she awoke with a start. Some one had pushed 
against her door. A voice, in a hushed whisper, said : 

“ No, no, not that ; she ain’t in there.” 

“ Thisun,” answered the voice, which she thought 
was the landlord’s. 

Under the blood-freezing belief that some one 
was to be murdered or robbed, poor Flora started 
and crept to the door, which was partially ajar, the 
man having pushed back the chest. Filled with 
dread and curiosity to know what was going on, she 
placed her ear near to the aperture. Voices were 
whispering at Mrs. Howard’s door, and Flora rec- 
ognized Mrs. Howard’s among others. Curiosity 
overcame fear, and she tried to catch some of the 
words that fell from the lips of those engaged in 
conversation. Only a fragment now and then 
could be heard. 

“ * * * there is no danger.” This from Mrs. 

Howard. 

“ I doubt if it will do any good.” « 

« * * * I could not refuse.” 

“ How long will you be away ?” 

“ Four or five days, That will be all right, won’t 
it ?” she asked, 


266 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


“ Yes * * * be careful.” 

“ I shall * * * Then came much which she 
could not understand. At last she heard something 
about a roan horse with a black ear. She was not 
quite sure that this was not a freak of her imagina- 
tion, for she had dwelt so long on that horse that 
she sometimes half believed she was losing her 
mind on the subject. Mrs. Howard was at last 
heard to say : 

“ You must do something to help — ” 

I will do all I can. * 

All that Flora heard was spoken in whispers, and 
to her it was very much like a dream. She waited 
until that strange man had gone away, then closed 
the door, and, pushing the chest against it, went to 
bed. 

They resumed their journey next day, but she 
said nothing to Mrs. Howard about the conversa- 
tion she had overheard. Starkeville was reached 
at noon, and they put up at the Continental House, 
where, after a bath, toilet and dinner. Flora started 
to find the law office of John W. Hale. It was not 
a difficult matter to find the office of such a well- 
known man,and the first person of whom she inquired 
told her it was over the Hawley bank. Flora went 
alone, for Mrs. Howard was fatigued and had a 
headache, and she persuaded her to remain in the 
room until she returned. 

Colonel Hale was in his office, and alone, when 
Flora entered. He was looking over some legal- 
looking documents, and glanced over his spectacles 
at the pretty visitor. One glance at the pale face 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


267 


and tired form, and lie started to his feet, exclaim- 
ing : 

“ Good afternoon, young lady ! What can I do 
for you ?’' 

“ Don’t you recognize me ?” she asked. 

“ What ! Why, isn’t this Cousin Flora? Of course 
it is. Where did you come from, child?” He saw 
that she was faint, and placed a chair for her. 
Then, turning to a refrigerator that contained ice- 
water, he drew a glass and offered it to her. “ You 
are tired.” 

“ Thank you,” sipping the water. “ We have 
travelled since yesterday in a carriage.” 

“ From home ?” 

No ; from XXncle Reuben Price’s tavern, at New- 
burg.” 

“ I don’t believe I know where that is.” 

“ It is seventy-five miles away.” 

And did you come to see me ?” 

“ Yes,” she answered, tears gathering in her eyes. 
'*■ Don’t you know it all, cousin? My name has 
been in all the papers ; you must have read it.” 

He had read it, but, out of a tender regard for 
her feelings, had refrained from making any allu- 
sion to it. Sinking in his chair, he involuntarily 
murmured : 

“ Good Heaven, Flora ! Is it as bad as this ?” 

She tried to speak, but her sobs interrupted her. 
Realizing that she had something of great import- 
ance to communicate, and as they might be inter- 
rupted in the main office, he asked her to come with 
him into the consultation-room and there tell him 


268 


Mysteriotis Mr. Howard. 


all. Seated in an easy-chair, she commenced her 
story of her lover, whom she painted an honorable, 
upright and perfect man. Unhesitatingly she told 
of their betrothal, of the father’s opposition and of 
his discharging Horace. 

“ I have read all that in the papers, my dear/* 

“You have also read how he was arrested and 
thrown into prison for a crime of which he is inno- 
cent.” 

“ Yes, I have read he was in prison. What 
more ?” 

“ There is no more, only at the preliminary ex- 
amination some men swore positively that he was 
one of the robbers.” 

“ Well, Flora, how can I help him ?” 

“ You can. Colonel, if you will.” 

“ How ? ” 

“ On the afternoon of the robbery, at that very 
hour, he was twenty miles away from Standish on 
a lonely road, in company with a man named 
Grogan, who rode a roan horse with a black ear.” 

The lawyer’s keenest interest was now aroused, 
for he clearly saw a point for the defense. 

“ Where is this man who has the roan horse with 
a black ear?” he asked. “ He is essential to prove 
an alibi!' 

“ Alas, I know not. The lawyer appointed to de- 
fend Horace is young, inexperienced and incompe- 
tent to handle a case of such importance, and can- 
not be depended upon. He made some feeble ef- 
forts to find the man, but has failed, and is now in 
despair.” 


Mysterio2is Mr. Howard. 


269 


“ Why doesn’t he get a better lawyer ?” 

“That is my mission here. I assure you that 
Horace knows nothing of this visit. He does not 
know that we are related, or that ‘you are my friend. 
Father hates Horace, because he loves me, and will 
do nothing for him. Horace is poor and unable to 
employ a lawyer to defend him, and I have come to 
you to plead, to implore you to help him — to save 
him. Oh, I shall die if he is convicted.” 

Colonel Hale had a tender heart, and the tears 
of Flora soon moved him to consent, to take the case. 

“I can’t promise much,” he said. “You must 
not lose sight of the fact that the public mind is set 
against him and all bank robbers, and the defense 
will have to be clear. The alibi will have to be 
proven without a doubt. All depends on the roan 
horse with the black ear. I never saw or heard of 
such an animal ; bub if there is such, it must be 
found. Its rider will save him.” 

All was arranged. He was to meet her in Stan- 
dish one week from that day, where they would 
have an interview with the prisoner, and talk with 
the two principal witnesses, whom the lawer thought 
there might be a possibility of shaking in their 
positiveness. He took the little, thin hand in his 
own, and gazing into those blue eyes full of tears, 
trust and hope, said : 

“ My dear child, I will do all I can. Your father 
will be very angry with me for being interested in 
this case, but I can’t help it. Your tears and confi- 
dence in your lover’s innocence would convince any 
one but an angry father or a stupid jury.’' 


2 70 


Mysterious Mr, Ilozvardr 


Next morning they took their departure from 
Starkeville, and Flora sat with head bowed as the 
carriage rolled away. Colonel Hale had tried to 
encourage her, y^ the very manner of the lawyer 
was calculated to give her little hope. 

“ Mrs. Howard, if he is convicted, how long a 
sentence will they give him ?” she asked, when 
they left the town far behind them. 

“ About twenty-five years,” she answered. “ They 
don’t show much mercy to men who rob banks.” 

“ Twenty-five years is a very long time. He is 
twenty-three now, he will be forty-eight then, and 
I forty-three. We will be quite old, will we not?” 

“ Oh, no, dear. People are only considered in 
their prime between forty and fifty, if they are 
careful of their health.” 

She dared not tell her that in penal servitude it 
would require a constitution of iron to survive 
twenty-five years. Perhaps no man had ever served 
so long a term in the Missouri Penitentiary. 

It was the middle of the afternoon ; the carriage 
had been rolling along a dusty road that led through 
a wood. They came to a small stream spanned by 
a bridge, with a ford above the bridge where one 
might cross, as the water was shallow ; but their 
driver preferred the bridge, as the banks to the ford 
were steep. As they were crossing the bridge. 
Flora saw a man ride down the bank toward the 
water. There was nothing about the horseman to 
attract particular attention. He wore a long, dark 
ulster, a broad-brimmed hat, and his face was cov- 
ered with a dark-brown well-trimmed beard. He 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


271 


stopped his horse in the water and loosened the rein 
to let the animal drink. The carriage started down 
the eastern slope of the bridge, every moment going 
farther from the Missourian. The horse was a 
roan, but there were hundreds of roan horses, and 
she had no thought of calling her companion’s at- 
tention to this one. But the animal suddenly raised 
its head from the water and started across the 
stream, and she saw that one ear was black as jet. 
She shrieked with joy. 

“ What is the matter ?” asked Mrs. Howard. 

“ It is he ! It is he !” she screamed, making an 
effort to leap from the carriage. 

h'earing her reason had suddenly become de- 
throned, Mrs. Howard made frantic efforts to hold 
her, but she tore loose and leaped into the road. 
By this time the man on the roan horse with the 
black ear had ascended the bank and was galloping 
over the hill. 

“ Stop, stop, stop ! Now that I have found you, 
you shall not escape !” cried Flora, running at the 
top of her speed after him. 

He did not hear her, continued to gallop on and 
disappeared over the hill. She ran and ran until 
she fell senseless in the dust. Mrs. Howard, who 
was in close pursuit, came on her at this moment and 
raised her from the ground. 


272 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

FLORA AND THE WITNESSES. 

'‘Ha’ the diel got into them women folks?” Pas- 
chal asked, turning the carriage about and pursu- 
ing them. Putting the horses to a gallop, he was, 
in a few moments, alongside Mrs. Howard, who 
was supporting Flora in her arms, brushing the 
dust from her face. “ Be she dead ?” asked the 
driver. 

“ No. Lift her in the carriage, then drive into 
the water above the bridge. We must have water 
to restore her.” 

Flora was quickly lifted into the carriage and 
they were soon rattling away to the ford. He 
drew up midway in the stream, where the water 
came nearly to the axles, and standing on the step, 
Mrs. Howard bent over and, dipping her hand in 
the stream, washed the dust from the face of the 
unconscious girl. Before she had completed her 
work. Flora had regained consciousness, and look- 
ing about, said : 

“ Where is he? Did you catch him?” 

“Who, my dear?” asked Mrs. Howard, fearing 
that her mind wandered. 

“ The man on the roan horse with the black ear ? 


MysteriotLs Mr. Howard. 


273 


Oh ! we must not let him escape. We must find 
him.’’ 

It took some time for her to explain matters 
fully, and the man was already out of sight and 
rapidly riding away, so they could not hope to find 
him. They went to the nearest farphouse and 
made careful inquiry for him, but no one had ever 
seen such a horse. Two boys, by promise of a 
liberal reward, were stimulated to make an effort 
to find him, but failed. They would have come to 
the conclusion that no such being existed had they 
not met Bill Jones, who declared he had seen “ sich 
a hoss at Blackwell’s store on th’ cross roads.” 

This incident detained them a whole day, and 
then Flora, hoping and despairing, started once 
more for Newburg tavern. Uncle Reuben and 
Aunt Rachel, who lived in constant fear that Jor- 
don Wells would come in Pdora’s absence “ and give 
them fits,” were rejoiced to see them safe back. 
Mrs. Howard’s children ran to meet her ; she kissed 
them fondly, and promised never to leave them so 
long again. 

“ Has father been here since I left ?” Flora asked. 

“ No, but there’s a letter in yer room for ye.” 

In was from her mother, who was anxious con- 
cerning her health, and wanted her to come home. 

“ I must not go now,” she thought. ‘‘ It would 
ruin all if I left at this time.” She appealed to 
Aunt Rachel to invent some excuse for delaying 
her return. The result was a carefully written 
letter by Aunt Rachel, Mrs. Howard acting as 
amnnu^nsis, stating how happy and reconciled Flora* 


2 74 Mysteriotis Mr, Howard. 


was, and that her health was improving, conclud- 
ing with the assurance that if left with herself a 
few weeks longer she would thoroughly recover. 
This epistle had the desired effect, and the visit 
was prolonged. 

On the day^ she was to meet Colonel Hale in 
Standish, she started alone for that town ; for Aunt 
Rachel vowed she would not risk her neck in them 
plaguey kears ag’in,” and Mrs. Howard could not 
leave her children. She found the Colonel at the 
hotel. Taking her hand, he said : 

I got your letter about the roan horse with the 
black ear, and have been doing all in my power to 
find the owner of that animal.” 

“ Have you heard nothing of it?” 

“ Yes, I heard twice about the horse. It was seen 
at a country store the same day, which proves that 
yours was not a delusion. It was seen next day at 
Dummy’s Mill, but no one had ever seen the rider 
or horse before.” 

“ Did any one talk with him ?” 

“ No.” 

“ Nor know where he was going ?” 

“ Not a person. The fellow who rode that horse 
seems as hard to find as the mythical Peter Rugg ; 
but we will find him, never fear.” 

'‘Then such a person exists? I was not mis- 
taken ?” 

“ No, you were not mistaken.” 

“ I had begun to fear I might be growing insane.” 

With a laugh, he placed his large, strong hand 
on her head, and said : 


Mysieriotis Mr, Howard. 


^75 


“ Not in the least, my dear. Now, when you have 
rested, we will begin business.” 

“ I am rested. Let us goat once and see Horace.” 

“ Not yet.” 

“ Why not ?” 

“ I am conducting this defense, and must have 
my wa};-,” he answered, with a pleasant smile on his 
good-natured face. “ Have you ever met the wit- 
nesses for the State ?” 

“ Not since the accusation.” 

“ Well, that is so much better. I have sent for 
them.” 

“ Why did you do that ?” 

“ I want to talk with them.” 

She began to see the wisdom of the course he 
had marked out, and wisely decided to abide by 
what he did and said. They had not long to wait 
for Enoch Ralls. He came into the apartment of 
the lawyer, his hat in his hand, his bald head 
glistening, and his eyes round with wonder. He 
was a short, stout, stoop-shouldered man, with a 
meek and lowly manner. 

“ Are you Mr. Enoch Ralls ?” asked the lawyer, 
rising and taking his hand. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ I am happy to meet you. Be seated.” 

Enoch took a seat on the sofa, passed his hand 
over his bald head, and looked puzzled. The law- 
yer, carefully closing the door, threw himself into 
a seat opposite the witness, and asked : 

“ How long have you lived in Missouri, Mr. 
Ralls r 


276 


Mysteriotis Mr. Howard. 


“ ’Bout twenty-five years.” 

“ What business do you follow ?” 

“ Wall, I do most anything J kin git t’ do. Some- 
times I digs wells ur works in cellars, an’ set fence 
posts ur saw wood, ur do anything I kin git t’ do,” 
and he again passed his hand over his bald pate. 

“You know Mr. Jordan Wells ?” 

“ Yes, used t’ work fur Jordan two ur three yeers 
ergo.” 

“ Where did you come from, when you emigrated 
to Missouri?” the lawyer asked. 

“ Frum Kaintucky.” 

“ Is that your native State?” 

“ I wuz born thar, ’f that’s wot yer drivin’ at.” 

“ Do you know this young lady ?” 

Enoch gave Flora a scrutinizing stare, and said : 

“ I b’lieve she’s Jordan Wells’s gal.” 

“She is Miss Wells.” 

“ Thought I ’d seen ’er erabout the place.” 

“ You know Horace Rathburne ?” 

“Yes, I know Horace.” , • 

“Intimately?” 

“Yes, tollerable well.” 

“ Don’t you know him very well? Were not you 
and he great cronies, and together much of the 
time?” 

“ No, we never run t’gether ; ye see, he ran with 
a different set frum mine,” said Enoch, modestly. 

“ Wh}?-, I thought you knew him well?” 

“Yes, I’ve seen him in Jordan’s store, when I 
worked round thar.” 

“Was that your only acquaintance with him?” 


Mysteriotis Mr. Howard. 


277 


“Yes.” 

“ And not very well acquainted at that ?” 

“ Well, I dun know—” 

“ You think you knew him when you saw him ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Only think so ?” 

“ Yes, I knowed him.” 

The lawyer, by asking- leading questions, was try- 
ing to entrap the witness, but Enoch was too wary 
for that. He fixed his eyes on the lawyer with an 
undaunted stare, and added : 

“ If it ’s that bank robbery yer harpin’ on, I ’ll tell 
ye right here he was thar. I saw him.” 

“ Mr. Ralls, was there not some excitement there 
on that occasion ?” 

“ Yes, a good deal,” he answered, in a drawling 
tone. 

“ Would one’s judgment be as good and one’s eye 
as keen with men shooting at him as on an ordi- 
nary occasion ?” 

“ Well, I reckin’ not.” 

“ May it not be possible that you saw some one 
who looked like Horace Rathburne ?” asked Flora, 
who was unable longer to keep quiet. Enoch fixed 
his faded blue eyes on the pretty face, and said : 

“Thar hain’t no use o’ talkin’. Miss, I know 
Horace Rathburne, an’ it wuz his face I saw.” 

“ Could you not be mistaken ?” 

“ No.” 

“You swear it, positively?” 

“Yes.” 

The lawyer, who had been making frantic efforts 


278 


Mysteriotis Mr. Howard. 


to keep her quiet and leave the matter to him, now 
put in with : 

‘‘ Mr. Ralls, many a man has sworn positively to 
what he believed to be true, and been mistaken. 
Men have been hung on mistaken testimony. Now, 
you have no ill-will against this unfortunate young 
man ?” 

“ Oh ! I hain’t got nuthin’ agin’ Horace ; he allers 
treated me white.” - 

“ Then you want to hang him, or send him to the 
penitentiary for life ?” 

“ No, I don’t want nuthin’ to do with et ; but then 
I won’t swear to a lie even fur him.” 

“ But 5^ou may, after all, be mistaken ?” 

“ Can’t be, sir.” 

“ Don’t you know there are so many people who 
look alike that nearly every man has his double?” 

“ Yes ; but thar hain’t but one Horace, an’ he was 
thar.” 

“ Did you hear him speak?” 

“ No ; thar warn’t no time. I jist seed his face 
ez he come a tumblin’ down on my back, an’ I sed t’ 
Jack I knowed who et wuz ; and Jack sed he know’d 
too ; an’ both know’d twuz Horace ez used t’ clerk 
fur Jordan Wells.” 

Try as he would, the lawyer found himself un- 
able to shake the belief of the witness, so, after 
asking him a few more questions, he told him he 
might go. 

“ Ef I ’d a-knowed ye wanted me t’ come up here 
t’ talk .erbout that, blamed ’f I ’d a-come a step,” 
growled Enoch, as he donned his hat and walked out. 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


279 


A few moments later Jack Auglin entered, and 
the lawyer proceeded -to interrogate him as closely 
as he dared without bringing on himself the accu- 
sation of tampering with a witness for the State ; 
but little more satisfaction could be gained from 
Jack than he was able to obtain from Enoch, and 
the lawyer was in despair. He tried to keep up a 
cheerful appearance for Flora’s sake, but it was dif- 
ficult. 

“ What do you think about the case now?” asked 
Flora. 

“ I don't know. I have not talked with my client 
yet.” 

“ Let us go to see Horace.” 

There was no reason for longer delaying the 
visit, so they went. The lawyer waited in the hall 
for Flora to enter the cell first and acquaint her 
lover of the arrangement. After she had been ten 
minutes with the prisoner, he entered, and found 
both in tears. He began conversing with Horace, 
and from the first was struck with the young man’s 
honest face and genteel manner. His story was a 
simple and pathetic one. On the day of the rob- 
bery he was riding a horse he had purchased from 
Mr. Bunce along an unfrequented road toward a 
village some distance south of Standish, where he 
thought Flora’s father had sent her. It was his in- 
tention to see his lady-love, have an understanding 
with her, and then leave to hunt up a position, and 
as soon as able to support a wife to come for her. 
About two o’clock in the afternoon he fell in com- 
pany with a stranger, who rode a roan horse with a 


28 o 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


black ear. He recounted the conversation they had 
had together, and was certain it was six o’clock be- 
fore they had separated at a place where the roads 
forked. He did not inquire the man’s residence, or 
what business he was engaged in, but thought he 
was a farmer or cattle buyer. He only knew that 
his name was Grogan. The lawyer asked a few 
more questions and left, telling Flora to join him 
at the hotel. 

“ God bless you,” whispered the prisoner when 
they were alone. “ Never was a man happier than 
I, for never before had man such proof of love.” 

“ Horace, you will surely be acquitted. God will 
not permit such a wrong !” sobbed Flora. 

The prisoner took the fair girl in his arms, and 
whispered : 

“ Pray, dearest ! I have more faith in your prayers 
than in any lawyer’s skill.” 

The jailer said it was time to close up, and after 
a lingering embrace they separated. She brushed 
the tears from her cheeks and hurried to the hotel. 
Entering the room, she found her cousin. Colonel 
Hale, awaiting her. 

“ Here is a card from a gentleman below who 
wants to see you,” said the Colonel^handing' her a 
card. She glanced at it and saw the name of 
“ Josiah Hunt.” 

“What! he here? Why can he want to see 
me ?” 

“You had better see him,” said the lawyer. “The 
business may be important.^ I had better retire.” 

“ No ; remain. I wan-t you to hear what he has 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


281 


to say.” She touched a bell-button, tfnd a moment 
later a boy appeared. “ vShow Mr. Hunt up !” said 
Flora. The boy bowed and left, and a few moments 
later the young merchant entered. His face wore 
the usual business-like expression. He bowed on 
entering, then looking at the Colonel, waited for an 
introduction. 

“This is Colonel Hale, a relative of mine,” said 
Flora. “ Anything you have to say to me you can 
say in his presence.” 

“ Well, that is plain and business-like. Miss Wells. 
I am here by chance, as we learned that there was 
a bankrupt stock here, and we thought there might 
be a bargain. Seeing your name on the register, I 
determined to call on you and do what I had deter- 
mined on doing as soon as I got over that little fit 
of temper,” and he thrust his hand in his side pocket 
to assure himself his scissors were safe. “ That 
is, to apologize for my former unbusi^ess-like rude- 
ness. I called on Horace yesterday, and told him 
all about what a beast I had made of myvSelf. Fall- 
ing into conversation with him, I was soon con- 
vinced from his tone and manner that he is inno- 
cent — ” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Hunt ! Thank you !” cried 
Flora, impetuously. 

“ And now that I am convinced that he is inno- 
cent, I will do all in my power to help him out of 
the scrape.” 

“ Then find the roan horse with the black ear !” 
cried Flora. 

“ I ’ll do it, by jingo ; I ’ll do it if I have to let 


282 


Mysterious Mr, Howard, 


fall trade go to thunder. Business advertising will 
find him, and I shall do it,” he declared ; and bid- 
ding the attorney and Flora adieu, he hurried away 
to engage on his mission. 

“ Do you believe he is in earnest ?” asked Flora. 

Yes, greatly in earnest.” 

“ Thank Heaven. The Hunts are a power in this 
part of the State, and they can do much toward 
turning the tide of public opinion.” 

She started for Uncle Reuben’s that evening and 
Colonel Hale returned home, after consulting with 
Mr. Hyatt, who was instructed to keep him posted, 
from time to time, in regard to the case. Mr. 
Hyatt was specially instructed to keep his eyes 
open for the rider of the roan horse with the black 
ear. 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


283 


CHAPTER XXX. 

A HASTY DEPARTURE. 

It was night ! Silently Flora passed from the 
old gray tavern, over the moss-grown stiles, and 
turned her steps toward the hill where she had 
been on that fatal afternoon when her lover was 
torn from her side. The. night was fine — such a 
one as would win a tribute from any astronomer — 
the stars shone forth like gems in a setting of jet. 
Through the frost-browned foliage of the trees, a 
glimpse now and then of one of the outbuildings of 
the old tavern greeted the eye, and, passing to the 
inner consciousness, grew into strange and fantas- 
tic images, bearing no relation to commonplace ob- 
jects. The trees appeared to assume human form, 
and when a gust of wind would gambol through 
their branches, they tossed their strong arms about 
in their defiant freedom. But the repose was sel- 
dom broken. If for a moment the wind raised its 
voice above a whisper, it was only to sink back into 
a deeper quiet, a more perfect silence. 

As she gradually neared the foot of the hill, and 
the deep shadows of the surrounding wood fell upon 
her, shutting out, as it were, the feeble light of the 
stars, no depression, no sinking of the soul ensued. 


284 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


but greater strength. Of late she had come to love 
that darkness and solitude which had been the ter- 
ror of her childhood. There seemed more sym- 
pathy in nature than she could find in human 
hearts. 

Mrs. Howard sympathized with her, but that 
mystery which had enveloped the Howards had 
grown so of late that she had come almost to fear 
her friend. That night in the old wayside inn, 
with the strange midnight visitor, had never left 
the young girl’s mind. Aunt Rachel sympathized 
with her, but the poor old lady was illiterate, and 
unable to offer that consolation to the soul which 
must come from deeper natures to soothe such a 
sorrow as hers. 

After all, it is God who sympathizes most with us 
in our afflictions. He alone can give real consola- 
tion. She seated herself on the old stump to enjoy 
a quiet hour. Below her, down in the lowlands, she 
could catch a glimpse of the stream just visible, and 
the long bridge across it, and thought of him whom 
she loved confined in that dark cell, and tears came 
to her eyes. 

Gradually the eastern sky was lighter and the 
stars grew more indistinct, and the west deepened 
the richness of its shadows ; here and there a dead 
tree, whose white, ghost-like arms seemed a monu- 
ment of past pride and strength, seemed to have 
put off a dark veil, which fell back, mingling with 
the obscure drapery of the night. She was alone ; 
alone with her thoughts and the rising orb. Brighter 
and brighter grew the sky, until at last, bursting 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


285 


from the cover of trees and rocks, the moon 
launched forth on its unobstructed lake of heaven. 
Though she felt in all its force and beauty that — 

Nearer grew the moon and midnight star, and God himself 
more near,” 

yet the sadness increased, and, strange to say, a 
feeling of loneliness and a sensation of pain took 
possession of her. 

It was an excellent place and season for prayer, 
and with bowed head she appealed to God for 
strength to bear burdens greater than she alone 
could endure ; and just as she had said “ Amen,” a 
rustling of the leaves attracted her attention. She 
listened and was conscious, not of the perfect silence 
she had before fancied, but of the restless activity 
of life by which she -was surrounded. The air 
seemed alive with insects ; the quick gliding of the 
serpent was audible, while from the covert of the 
forest came the soft, mellow tones of the whip-poor- 
will. Nature was hushed in sleep ; man sleeps, but 
in his sleep he dreams. Perhaps the stir of life in 
the forest was one of nature’s dreams ; the mind of 
man is active when he dreams — why not all nature 
dream with ceaseless activity ? 

Again she relapsed into silence and reverie. Was 
it the shadow of an angel? Were spirits hovering 
around her ? Hark ! The distant village bell tolled 
the solemn hour of twelve. She dared not look up, 
for she beheld a shadow on the moss. A cold sweat 
started upon her brow as, still averting her head, 
she cried : 

“ Speak ! Who or what are you ?” 


286 


Mystcriotis Mr. Howard. 


“ Your friend,” was the answer. 

Flora looked up, for in the sweet tones of the 
clear response she recognized not the mutterings 
of a disembodied spirit, but the voice of Mrs. 
Howard. As she seated herself on the stump at 
Flora’s side, and turned her face toward her, the 
girl remarked that she was paler than usual. Her 
hand, too, which found its way into the maiden’s, 
trembled and was cold. She was the first to break 
the silence. 

“So you thought a spirit stood before you when 
I came ? I hardly knew whether to feel offended 
or cross. But,” added she, with a glowing smile, 
“ I think you must have been deep in thought not 
to have seen me sooner than you did, for I stood by 
you quite a long time before -you seemed conscious 
of my presence.” 

“ And yet,” Flora answered, “ I was conscious of 
a presence long before I spoke. But this did not 
alarm me, for I am often impressed with this idea. 
Even the shadow, so abstracted was I at first, 
seemed but a dimly remembered dream. Gradually, 
as it appealed more strongly to my outward senses, 
my inward consciousness awoke to the reality. 
Then it was, when visions of the departed came 
crowding to my mind, that I cried, ‘ Who are you ?’ ” 

“And took me for a plain, vulgar ghost,” re- 
turned Mrs. Howard, smiling and shrugging her 
pretty shoulders. 

“On the contrary,” returned Flora, “by the 
shadow, I judged the spirit to be quite refined and 
natural.” 


Mysterious Mi\ Howard. 


287 


Mrs. Howard gently wound her arn\ about Flora 
and whispered : 

I am pleased to find you in so much better 
spirits, my dear. Have you been encouraged by 
the last visit to Standish ?” 

“ Yes, but I scarcely dare allow my hopes to soar. 
Another fall would crush out my life.” 

“ Your cousin will assist you ?” 

Yes.” 

“ And is 3mur lover cheerful ?” 

“ He is happy ! Oh, Mrs. Howard ! you never 
saw such a man. There never was such another. 
•The consciousness that my love remains with him 
through adversity makes him so happy that I be- 
lieve he could laugh at the scaffold.” 

“ Men know so little of women,” returned Mrs. 
Howard, seriously, “ as if adversity were not the time 
for a woman to show her strength. Aye, my child ; 
the world will never judge our sex aright. Woman’s 
love is stronger than man’s laws, and we must soar 
or sink with those we love.” 

Her speech puzzled Flora, as many of her re- 
marks had done. Mrs. Howard was almost giving 
expression to some strange philosophy with a hid- 
den significance. After a few moments’ silence the 
lady said : 

“ Flora, I am glad I found you out here alone, for 
I have something to tell you.” 

“ What ?” 

‘‘ We must part soon — perhaps this very night !” 

“Why ?” 

“ I am going away.” 


288 


My s Kerims Mr. Howard. 


“ For how long ?” 

“ Forever.” 

“ Mrs. Howard, you astonish me.” 

“ You think me mysterious,” said Mrs. Howard. 
“ My conduct must seem unnatural ; but the truth 
is, I am so contented now I am almost happy.” 

“ What do you mean ?” asked Flora. 

‘‘ My dear, it will all soon be over, and your poor 
friend who has borne in secret such dreadful things 
will be at peace. But don’t ask me to explain now ; 
I cannot.” Then looking steadily at Flora for a 
few moments, she added : “ Solemnly promise me 
to say nothing about this meeting, what has been 
said or will be said, for a week at least.” 

Flora promised, and she then said that a day’s 
silence would probably be sufficient, as she would 
then be far from Newburg. 

“ Now, my dear friend,” continued the mysteri- 
ous lady, “ you must not have too bad an opinion of 
us. All that you have seen of us appears strange, 
and I wish that I could explain ; but you must ex- 
cuse me. Be friendly with me during the last 
hour, perhaps, we shall ever spend together.” 

Oh, Mrs. Howard ! Why do you talk so 
strangely ? Surely, you cannot be going — ” 

“ I am, dear. Though the children are sleeping, 
they are dressed for a journey. So just try and 
forget what has astonished you ; don’t look so won- 
derstruck at me ; imagine that this has all been 
arranged as a matter of business, and let us talk 
and enjoy the few passing moments left us. I have 
a favor to ask of you.” 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


289 


I will grant any favor most willingly.” 

“ It is that you change trunks with me. Mine is 
newer than yours, and you will gain by the trans- 
action.” 

“ This is a strange request.” 

“ I cannot explain it, dear. Will you do it ?” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ I knew you would,” returned Mrs. Howard, 
winding her arm about Flora’s waist and leading her 
up the hill toward the old house. “ I had hoped to 
remain with you until your lover was acquitted, as 
I trust he will be soon. I had hoped I might see 
you happy. I had a little day-dream of my own, 
but it has vanished. Man proposes and God dis- 
poses. You are not a skeptic, Floria?” 

“ No, Heaven forbid that I should ever doubt.” 

“ I am glad to learn that. Cling to your religion 
more than to life, my dear ; for it alone can comfort 
you when darkest troubles come.” 

They reached the house, and the ladies ex- 
changed trunks. “ F. Wells ’’was on the end of 
Flora’s trunk, painted in black letters. She was 
about to erase it, when Mrs. Howard persuaded her 
to let it remain. 

“ Whenever I see it, I will think of you.” 

‘‘ Where are you going, Mrs. Howard ?” 

“ I don’t know.” 

Flora sat in a chair gazing at the friend whom • 
she had known since her grief, and despite the 
mystery and suspicion that surrounded her, regret- 
ted to have her go. A tear came in her eye, but 
Mrs. Howard kissed it away, saying : 


290 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


“ Don’t, child ! Be brave for my sake. You 
know not — God grant you may never know what 
this heart has to bear. Don’t add to it with your 
grief.” 

“Shall I ever see you again?” 

“ When two separate in this world, it may be 
years before they meet, perhaps never,” she an- 
swered. 

“Will you write to me ?” 

“ I doubt if I can. Now, my child, I have only 
one request to make, and that is that you forget 
me. Forget that you ever saw me.” 

“ I cannot.” 

“ Try.” 

“■ If you really wish it, I will.” 

“ Now, dear, I will go, but first promise me that 
whatever noise you may hear — of departure — you 
will not leave your room. Uncle Reuben has been 
paid several weeks in advance, so he will lose noth- 
ing. If you hear some one at my door, if you hear 
my trunk being carried out, say nothing, and, as 
you love me, do not leave your room. Do you 
promise ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Now, dear, farewell !” She placed her arms 
around her neck and kissed her again and again. 
For a moment Flora clung to her, then holding her 
hands in her own, gazed into the pale, m5^sterious 
yet beautiful face, and said : 

“ Permit me to ask you one question. Is your 
name Howard ?” 

“ No.” 


Mysterio7is Mr, Howard. 


291 


She left the room, closing the door after her. 
Flora could hear her softly moving about, packing 
her trunks. Overcome with amazement, she sat by 
the bed trying to solve the mystery of this strange 
family, when she heard the sound of wheels with- 
out. They stopped at the stiles, and on glancing 
from her window she saw a close carriage, some- 
thing rarely seen at Newburg. A man sprang from 
it and lightly ran to the old house. By the moon- 
light she recognized him as Mr. Howard. He 
rapped on the door, and a moment later Mrs. How- 
ard tripped down the stairs and softly opened it. 

‘‘ Are you ready?” he whispered. 

“ Yes.” 

He beckoned to the coaehman, who ran quickly 
across the yard, and all three flew noiselessly up 
the stairs. A moment later she heard the ehildren 
crying and complaining at being disturbed, and the 
parents soothing them with such words of affection 
as parents only ean use. All hurried downstairs. 
Mr. and Mrs. Howard carried the children, and the 
driver the trunk, whieh he plaeed on the carriage 
seat at his side. The family took their places in 
the carriage, and all drove away. So quietly was it 
all transaeted that not a member of the Newburg 
tavern, save Flora, knew it. 

Next morning, when Aunt Rachel rang the bell 
for breakfast, only Flora appeared. 

“ Where is Mrs. Howard ?” she asked. 

“ She is gone.” 

“ Gone ? Gone where ?” 

“ I don’t know.” 


292 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


“ When did she go ?” 

“ Last night.” 

“ How ?” 

Flora explained the mysterious manner in which 
the Howards had suddenly taken their departure, 
and Aunt Rachel said : 

“ Land sakes alive, don’t it beat all ! Well, she 
told me she was goin’ soon ; but their board is paid 
some weeks ahead, so it’s all right if it suits 
them.” 

At breakfast she told Uncle Reuben, who was 
never astonished at anything. He only remarked : 

“ Mighty queer people, anyhow. Come when no 
one expects ’em, and leaves th’ same way.” 

“ Well, Rube, Missus Howard seemed like a 
mighty nice woman.” 

Nothing more was said on the subject until near 
noon, when two horsemen rode up to the stiles, 
and, dismounting, came to Uncle Reuben, who sat 
on the porch smoking his pipe. 

“ Are you Mr. Reuben Price ?” asked one of 
them. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Does Mrs. Howard stay here ?” 

“ No.” 

“ What ? Didn’t she stop here ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ When did she leave ?” 

“ Last night.” 

“ Where did she go ?” 

“ I don’t know. I was asleep when she left, and 
she never left any word for me.” 


Mysteriotis Mr. Howard.. 


293 


. “ Left in the night ? And don’t any of you know 
where she went ?” 

“ We don’t. Her mail, or a man she called lier 
man, came after her, an’ she went off, an’ I don’t 
know nuthin’ about ’em.” 

“ Foiled again, Snuffer,” growled the horseman, 
to his companion. 

Snuffer growled out some unintelligible words, 
then they returned to their horses, and mounting, 
galloped away. But if their mission was to find the 
Howards it was evidently a failure, for they had 
disappeared as completely as if the earth had 
opened and swallowed them up. 


294 


]\Iystcriotis Mr. Howard. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

ARTHUR TELLS ALL. 

When one forms a good resolution, the next thing 
is to put it in execution. That is not always the 
easiest thing in the world to do, as Arthur West- 
fall discovered. He had determined to thwart the 
banditti if it cost him his life, and yet, after all, life 
and liberty are sweet. He could expect nothing 
less than a long term of penal servitude, and the 
tempter, who had not wholly deserted him, kept 
whispering in his ear: 

“ Why throw away this chance to get a fortune ? 
Fool, do you prefer a dungeon and chains to fortune 
and liberty?” 

But Arthur had learned that a fortune with a 
guilty conscience could not be enjoyed, and vowed 
to do what was right, whatever might come of it. 
General Hawley was at the bank next day, but 
looked so pale and careworn that he hardly dared 
mention the subject to him even if an opportunity 
had offered itself. He heard the banker ask the 
cashier : 

“ Ho'^y goes everything. Meeker?” 

“Very well, very well. General.” 

“ I knew it would. How thankful an old, worn- 


Mysteriotis Air. Howard, 


295 


out fellow like me should feel to have some one 
that can be trusted.” 

“ You have always found that you could trust me, 
General?” responded Meeker, with a hypocritical 
smile. 

“ Yes, Calvin, it would take a great deal to shake 
my faith in you.” 

This answer presented a new difficulty to Arthur’s 
mind. Perhaps he could not make General Hawley 
believe his story, and then he would have imprison- 
ment, or death, at the hand of the assassin for his 
pains. Would the General discard an old and tried 
friend for one who must admit that he was a thief 
sent for the purpose of robbery and murder ? This 
was a question worthy of serious consideration. 
Again the tempter came to point out only arrest 
and death as a traitor, even if he tried to reform. 
But he had come to know the devil now, and had 
the courage to say : 

“ Get thee behind me, Satan.” 

His good angel whispered : It was only death in 
the end, anyway, and that death in the effort to do 
right was glorious. Yes, he. would do right, even 
if he perished. It seemed as if an opportunity to 
warn the General would never come. He fre- 
quently went to the Hawley mansion on one pre- 
text or another, but the banker was always away. 
He met Grace and her mother. He had delightful 
tete-a-tHes with Grace, and became more and more 
infatuated with her manner. His love became a 
passion bordering onto madness, and had he be- 
lieved himself an honest man, would have proposed. 


296 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


notwithstanding their difference in station. Poor 
Arthur ! he was like one starving in the midst of 
plenty. 

The awful fate that was in store for him did not 
prevent his love growing stronger with every glance 
from those dark eyes, and every smile that displayed 
those beautiful teeth. Often when they were to- 
gether he found himself speaking in low, tender 
tones, to which she responded with blushes that 
made her neck and face crimson. That his love was 
returned he could hardly doubt, though the very 
fact was maddening to him. He became nervous, 
restless, and his eyes were seldom closed in slum- 
ber. Sleep was more miserable than his waking 
hours, for he was haunted by the most miserable 
dreams, in which masked outlaws were threatening 
the life of the being he loved. The crisis was com- 
ing ; this must all end some way soon or he would 
go mad. 

One day he heard General Hawley tell the cashier 
that the State funds would arrive in a fortnight. 
Only two weeks left to work, with so much to do, 
and so much caution necessary in accomplishing it. 
The bank was closed for the day, and he was walk- 
ing down the lane, his favorite promenade, praying 
Heaven to point out some course whereby he 
might thwart the robbers and save the banker. He 
could not find a single second to speak with Gen- 
eral Hawley. The cashier seemed ever on the 
watch when the General was around, and carefully 
studied to keep them apart. He was thinking all 
this over, and praying Heaven for strength and 


ATysterioits Mr. Howard. 


297 


wisdom, when a footstep startled him, and looking 
up, he saw General Hawley. 

“ Hello, George, my boy! Taking a bit of exer- 
cise ? That is well ; I enjoy a walk myself when 
the weather is fair.” 

Arthur seized the banker’s hand and glanced about 
to see that no one was within earshot. Now or never 
was the time to strike the blow that would crush 
the hopes of the banditti. 

General Hawley,” Arthur whispered in a voice 
hoarse with earnestness, ‘‘you have been a father to 
me, and I would die for you.” The banker opened 
his eyes in astonishment. “ Don’t look so surprised. 
I want to tell you something, but not here. It 
must be where no eye can see us and no ear save 
yours hear. Now be perfectly cool. Go home and 
say not a word about it to a living soul, but send a 
messenger for me to come to your house on a 
matter of business about the bank, so there can be 
no suspicion. If I should go of my own accord, 
suspicion would be aroused, for both you and I are 
watched.” 

“ Why, George ! What does this mean ?” 

“ That ’s what I want to tell you, but I can’t tell 
you here. Do as I say, and don’t believe me sud- 
denly gone mad, for I am as sane as you.” 

“ Well, as Hamlet’s mother said, ‘ if this is mad- 
ness, there is method in it.’ ” 

“ I will prove to you that there is method in it, 
but we must not even be seen walking together. 
Go home, and as .soon as you have had your tea 
send for me. I will be at my room in the hotel, 


298 


AlysterioiLS Air. Howard. 


and will come at once. You must give me an audi- 
ence alone. For the love of Heaven, your life and 
family, be calm and say not a word to any one of 
this.” 

General Hawley was a man of much nerve and 
coolness, but the manner of the bookkeeper almost 
upset him. As he walked homeward with a corru- 
gated brow, he kept thinking : 

“ Can this young fellow have lost his senses ? Is 
it possible he has suddenly gone mad? No, by 
Jove, he doesn’t look as if he was, yet he talks as 
though some terrible conspiracy was about to ruin 
the country.” 

Arthur tried to be cool and appear unconcerned. 
He had commenced the work, and called into use 
all his wonderful self-command. He went to sup- 
per, but did not linger long at the table. He had 
scarcely -reached his room when a messenger from 
the Hawley mansion came with a note summoning 
him to the banker’s presence at once. He was leav- 
ing the hotel when he met Meeker. 

“ Hello, my friend ! Going for a stroll ?” said 
Meeker. “ That suits me ; we will go together.” 
Then he whispered : “ The chief wants to see you 
to-night.” 

“ I can’t go.” 

‘‘ Why ?” 

For answer he gave him the note. Meeker read 
it, and a frown came over his face. 

“What can the old cuss want with you*?” 

“ The note does not say, and I have no means of 
knowing. Nevertheless, I must obey it, or I shall 


Alysterious Air, Howard. 


299 


incur his anger, perhaps suspicion, and be dis- 
charged. It might ruin all to refuse to obey this 
summons, so explain matters and excuse me to the 
chief.” 

They strolled into an almost deserted street, and 
were speaking in whispers. 

“ Yes, we will have to let you off to-night ; but, 
George, has he any suspicion that something is 
wrong with the books?” 

“ No-” 

“ He never mentions it?” 

“ Never.” 

“ If he should come to suspect me, the jig would 
be up.” 

“ I know he has the utmost confidence in you. 
But let me hasten to him and allay any suspicion 
he may have, if he has any.” 

He got away from Meeker and walked rapidly to 
the mansion. He did not meet Grace this time. 
She usually managed to meet him in the hall, but 
on this occasion he did not see her. The old 
banker was alone in his study, and his face wore a 
perplexed look. 

“ Well, George, my boy, you have puzzled me. I 
don’t know whether you have suddenly gone mad 
or discovered some great conspiracy that is about 
to upset the Government.” 

“ It’s a conspiracy. General Hawley,” said Arthur, 
coolly. “ Though it does, not threaten the nation, 
it does threaten you.” 

“ What is it?” 

“ Are we quite alone ?” 


300 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


“ Yes.” 

“ No one can eavesdrop ns ?” 

No.” 

“ General Hawley, are your nerves strong- ? Can 
you listen to a story far more thrilling than any 
blood-and-thunder novel?” 

Yes, go on.” 

. “ I am going to commence by giving you a his- 
tory of a part of my life, for it concerns you, so 
don’t interrupt me.” 

He proceeded briefly to narrate his early life, and 
how he was placed in the store of Mark Hunt to 
earn a living ; of the false accusation ; his hopeless 
tramping and starving in search of work, and finally 
meeting the stranger Jackson, in Kansas City, who 
persuaded him to join the banditti. The banker, 
despite his promises, could not refrain from fre- 
quent interjections of wonder. When he told of the 
train robbery, and his only larceny, the letter — giv- 
ing it to the banker to read, in proof of what he 
said — the General’s amazement increased. Then 
he told how he had saved his daughter from the 
villain’s knife, and produced the handkerchief she 
had given him, stained with her blood. The Gen- 
eral grasped his hand, and cried : 

“Heaven! Was it you who saved my child ?” 

“ Silence, General Hawley I The wonder is com- 
ing.” 

He then told him that Meeker, short in his ac- 
counts, and angry because Grace had declined his 
hand, had, through a friend of the bandit chief, 
laid a plan to rob the bank, and that the former 


Mysterious Mr, Howard, 


301 


bookkeeper had been sent away, and he given the 
place, in order to help the nefarious scheme. After 
having made a “ clean breast ” of everything, and 
noted the increasing amazement and interest of the 
banker, he concluded with : 

“ Now, General Hawley, this revelation may seem 
unreal, but I swear that every word of it is true. I 
do not know how I can make you believe me. A 
bandit, sent to rob and perhaps murder you, can 
hardly be expected to be more honest or truthful 
than one whom 5^ou have always believed to be 
honorable and trustworthy ; but I have resolved, 
with the help of God, to do my duty and take the 
consequences. My life is forfeited, whatever the 
consequences may be. Even if the Missouri ban- 
ditti are thwarted, slain or captured, they have 
friends who will avenge them. You can hardly 
realize what a power they are, and that they have 
friends in high places who shelter and protect 
them, and others who will avenge them.” 

They sha’n’t harm a hair of your head !” cried 
the impetuous old banker. “ When a young fellow 
has determined to do the right, with all the tempta- 
tions that are thrown around him, he is not going 
to be touched by these cowardly robbers. But 
this thing amazes, shocks me. Meeker a rascal ! 
Wife and Grace always said he was. I thought it 
was onl^T- their prejudice against him.” 

“ Their knowledge of human nature has proven 
keener than yours. Perhaps you form your judg- 
ment of the man from outward appearances, while 
they read the heart.’’ 


302 


Mysterious JMr, Howard, 


“ What are we to do ?” asked the General, after 
taking a few turns across the room. 

“ We must frustrate the robbers.” 

“ But how?” 

“ Whom can you trust with this secret ?” 

“ I don’t know. Yes — there is Colonel Hale, the 
lawyer. He is my legal adviser.” 

“ You might consult with him, if you are quite 
sure that he will keep it. But I would advise you 
to go to Chicago and bring some of the keenest 
detectives in that city to help plan for the capture 
of the band.” 

“ I can’t go ; the bank may be robbed mean- 
while.” 

“ No ; nothing will be done until the State funds 
arrive. You have plenty of time.” 

“ Yes, yes ; but I am all flustered. It seems hard 
to believe Meeker that kind of a man.” 

“ Bring your detectives and set them tp shadow- 
ing Meeker ai;d myself, and you will And it true. 
I will know soon when the robbery is to be com- 
mitted. I will meet the chief, learn his plan, and 
you can have your officers stationed about the bank 
to kill or arrest the robbers. If no attempt is made 
to rob the bank ; if Meeker should be innocent and 
I insane or trying to malign him, he need never 
know that you suspected him.” 

General Hawley decided to take Arthur’s advice 
and prepare to defend his bank. 

Now, my boy,” said the banker, who had grown 
more cool and collected, “ let me take that letter 
. from Cravensford and lock it in my private safe. 


Myste^'iohs Mr, Howard. 


303 


When this is all over it may prove a mascot for 
you.” 

“ It will make but little difference to me what it 
proves,” said Arthur, handing him the letter. “ The 
least I can hope for is a life sentence in the peni- 
tentiary. I once had ambitious dreams, but all that 
is over now.” 

“ Don’t despair, my boy. While there is life there 
is hope.” 

“ I have counted everything,” Arthur answered. 
“ I know it is death anyway, and I have resolved to 
die for the right. It would be pleasant to die for you, 
and — and — ” 

“ Who ?” 

“ Your daughter.” An expression of alarm and 
pain swept over the banker’s face ; he gasped for 
breath and half started from his seat, and Arthur 
added : “ Do not alarm yourself. General. She 
shall never know how. I feel in this matter. I un- 
derstand my position, and shall not leave my proper 
place.” 

He left the house, and the General buried his 
face in his hands and gave utterance to a groan. 


V \\ • 



304 


Mysterious Mr, Howard, 


CHAPTER XXXIL 

THE last consultation. 

Despite all his efforts to be calm, Arthur found 
himself trembling next morning when he went 
to his desk. Meeker was in the bank almost as 
soon as himself. General Hawley did not come 
until an hour or two later, and the bookkeeper 
watched him with great anxiety. He tried hard to 
read his thoughts, but the General was outwardly 
calm. Arthur would not have suspected that he 
knew anything of the conspiracy, if he had not 
told him the night before. One thing was marked 
on the part of the banker, and that was his treat- 
ment of Meeker. He kept aloof from him, and 
spent most of his time in his private office. 

It was late in the day when Arthur heard the 
cashier and the president talking. A few moments 
later the General took his departure, and Meeker 
came to Arthur’s side, and in a low tone said : 

• “ What’s got into the old man ? He’s going to 
Chicago.” 

“ I can’t say. Does he often go to Chicago ?’* 

“ Not of late years.” 

“ Did he give any reason for going ?” 

Some private business of his own.” 


Mysterious Mr, Hozvard. 


305 


Meeker seemed very mucli put out, and gave 
vent to an expression very much like an oath, as 
he turned away. Arthur called him back, and 
asked : 

“ Did you see the chief last night ?” 

^‘Yes.” 

“ What did you learn of him?” 

He was very angry at you.” 

“ Why?” 

“ For failing to meet him. He swore he would 
teach you to obey orders.” 

“ But if I had gone as he directed, I would have 
spoiled everything. General Hawley would have 
had his suspicions aroused, and I would have been^ 
discharged. Didn’t you explain this to the chief ?” 

“Yes, but it did not satisfy him. He is not 
pleased with the way you have been acting.” 

“ I am sorry. I was guided by my best judgment 
and discretion.” 

Meeker went away with a frown on his face. 
That Meeker was jealous and suspicious of him, 
Arthur did not doubt, and during the day the 
cashier’s sullenness caused him uneasiness. He 
feared that he was putting his recent visit to 
the General and the latter’s sudden journey to 
Chicago together, and was drawing a conclusion 
that might thwart his designs. After closing, 
Arthur went to his room at the hotel. He had not 
been alone a great while when he was startled by 
a tap at his door. He rose and opened it, and ad^ 
mitted Meeker. 

“ Are you alone ?” he asked. 


3o6 


Mysterious Mr, Howard, 


“ Yes, I am always alone when not at the 
bank.” 

“ He has gone.” 

“ The General ?” 

“ Yes, he has gone to Chicago, but what the deuce 
he went for puzzles me.” 

“ Did he make no explanation ?” 

“ Said something about a real-estate deal.” 

“When did he say he would be back?” asked 
Arthur, who, now that he had the lead in asking 
questions, determined to hold that position. 

“ In two or three days.” 

“ Then he will come back before the State funds 
arrive ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ When will the chief come again ?” 

“ In a few days ; Bob will let me know.” 

“ I want to see him then.” 

“ You had better see him and try to set matters 
aright. There is another thing I want you to bear 
in mind, and that is to keep away from the Hawley 
mansion.” 

“ I will not go unless on urgent business, or sent 
for.” 

“ You will not be sent for.” 

They then discussed the State funds, and how 
the banditti would carry away the money. 

“ I hope the State Treasurer will not send much 
silver,” said the cashier. “ Silver is bulky and 
heavy. Paper is much better.” 

“Yes, but they will manage to lug it away.” 

“ How do they parry it ?” 


Myste7'ious Mr, Howard. 


307 


“In bags slung across their horses,” answered 
Arthur. 

“Did you ever assist to rob a bank?” asked the 
cashier, nervously. 

“ No, but I have heard them explain how it was 
done.” 

“ How long have you been with them ?” asked the 
cashier. 

“ It will soon be four months.” 

“ And do you propose to quit ?” 

“ I have not fully made up my mind. Some seem 
to think that we will make so much out of this affair 
that we can all retire from business ; but I have 
given the matter no thought yet.” 

“ I wish the thing was over,” said Meeker, in a 
hoarse whisper, while he fidgeted uneasily in his 
chair. “ I am getting deucedly nervous.” 

“ Why should you be nervous ? You are not ex- 
pected to have anything to do with the robbery.” 

“ No, but some wretched blunder, slip or mishap 
might make it all miscarry, and then I would be in 
a fix.” 

“ No worse than I,” answered Arthur, coolly, 
“ and yet I am not growing nervous. In our posi- 
tion one takes his life in his hand, and must be pre- 
pared for anything.” 

“ But you don’t occupy my position in society. 
The fall, the disgrace, is something.” 

“ Prison bars, a bullet or a rope level all ranks of 
society, Mr. Meeker. But let us not look on the 
dark side of the picture.” 

'“ You are right. It is unwise and foolish to do 


3o8 


Myste^'iotts Mr, Howard. 


so, and we shall not. I am going now, and will try 
to be more eheerful in the future.” 

Three days later General Hawley returned, and 
was in the bank as if nothing had happened. The 
reader will remember that Col. John W. Hale’s 
office was over the bank, and Colonel Hale was 
the legal adviser of the banker. He frequently 
went to his office to consult with him on legal 
points in his business, and while he was in the 
private office of Colonel Hale, discussing the pro- 
posed robbery, he excited no suspicion from any 
one. Even Arthur, who lived in constant expect- 
ancy^ did not know that four of Chicago’s keenest 
detectives were in the city. Those plain, business- 
looking men, who were seen so often going to and 
coming from Colonel Hale’s office, were supposed 
to be clients. When the whole plan had been laid 
out to Colonel Hale by the General, and he learned 
that one of the band had become penitent, and had 
determined to betray them, he thought that per- 
haps he would be able to gain some evidence from 
him that would aid in the defense of Horace Rath- 
burne, for he did not doubt that this was the same 
band that robbed the Standish Bank. But he re- 
solved to say nothing about it to him until the 
banditti had been captured. 

Arthur hoped the banker had done something to 
prevent the robbery, but day after day went by, 
and the time for the arrival of the State funds 
drew frightfully near, and he heard nothing nor 
saw a sign of defense. Sometimes in his despera- 
tion he was on the eve of running away and leav- 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


309 


ing the banker and his enemies to fight their own 
battles, especially as the General seemed not to 
heed his warning. But at such moments the great 
dark, soulful eyes of Grace seemed gazing on him 
in sad reproval, and he determined, come wHat 
might, he would remain and defend the bank alone 
and single-handed. 

It was the Tuesday before the State funds were 
to arrive on Thursday, and he was just closing up 
his books for the day, when Meeker whispered : 

“ Wait until the others are gone !” 

“ You have something to say ?” 

“ Yes.’’ 

The bookkeeper opened the ledger again and be- 
gan going over its pages, as if something had been 
neglected. General Hawley suddenly came into the 
bank on pretense of having forgotten something in 
his private office. He paused a moment at Arthur’s 
desk, as if to speak with him, and showed him a 
card on which was written : 

'‘'All is well ; report as sodn as there are any new 
developments. 

Arthur read, nodded, and the General, crushing 
the card in his hand,- entered his private office and 
destroyed it. Arthur did not look up from his 
ledger, but resolved to have a talk with the General 
before the dawn of another day. General Hawley 
was in his private office but a moment, and then 
passing through the bank, went out on the street. 
As soon as all had gone from the building, the 
cashier came to the side of the bookkeeper and 
said ; 


310 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


“ Now that they are all gone, I want to tell you 
that there is to be a consultation to-night.” 

“At the old mill?” 

“ No. We don’t dare meet there any more. It 
might attract attention. I will come to your hotel 
for you.” 

“ What time will you call ?” 

“ Between nine and ten o’clock to-night.” 

“ I will be in my room.” 

Arthur then closed his ledger, locked his desk, 
and went to the hotel. After supper he went to his 
room to wait for the cashier. It still lacked three- 
quarters of an hour to the time for Meeker to come, 
when there came a tap at his door, and opening it, 
he saw a new arrival at the hotel, who occupied the 
room opposite him. 

“ Will you please give me a match ?” he asked. 
“ I have none to light my gas.” 

“ Certainly.” Turning to the low mantel, he took 
some matches from a little ornamented match -safe 
and handed them to thb man, who stood in his door. 
He took the matches, and thrusting them in his 
pocket, still remained in the doorway, as if anxious 
to form an acquaintance. 

“ Do you live in Starkeville ?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Arthur answered. The town was as much 
his home as any place. 

“ I am a stranger here, but I like the town. Are 
you in business ?” 

“ I am the bookkeeper of the Hawley Bank.” 

“An excellent position. You are lucky to have 
it. If you had to travel as we poor fellows do, and 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


I 


depend on commissions on sales, you would learn 
what it is to hustle.” 

You ar.e a commercial traveller ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ How long since you came ?” 

“ Three days. I ’m not through yet, and I shall 
probably be here two or three days more. My room 
is right across the hall from yours ; come in and get 
acquainted.” 

Arthur thanked him for the invitation, and the 
stranger retired, closing the door after him. In a 
short time Mr. Meeker came in, and said : 

“ Are you ready ?” 

How far have we to go ?” 

“ Some distance.” 

I am ready.” 

He donned his hat and followed Meeker down 
the stairs to the street. He had hardly disappeared 
from the hall when the door suddenly opened, and 
the gentleman who had borrowed the matches, who 
gave his name as Nicholas Burton, emerged, dressed 
for a walk, and skipped down the stairway after 
them. 

Meeker took Arthur’s arm and hurried him 
along, saying : 

“We will have to walk some distance before 
we reach the conveyance that is going to take 
us.” 

They were soon in the western suburbs of the 
town, hurrying along a dark lane. At the end of 
the lane they came to a dense wood with paths 
diverging from the mouth of the lane in different 


3 1 2 Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


directions. Some were plain and well-travelled, 
while others were dim, and bore little evidence of 
travel in later years. They turned into a dim path 
leading off to the left, and followed it for some dis- 
tance, when they found a man with a team waiting 
for them. It was a span of bay horses hitched to a 
lumber wagon, and Bob Maddox sat in the driver’s 
seat holding the whip and reins in his hands. 

“ Jump in an’ let’s be goin’,” he said. 

They climbed in, and the great, lumbering old 
vehicle started away at a tremendous speed over 
the rough road. After devious turns, the path 
finally brought them to an old log-hut standing in 
the forest, which had evidently been deserted for 
years. A light gleaming faintly from one of the 
windows could be seen two or three hundred paces 
away. They had just come within sight of the hut, 
when a man stepped from the dark shadow of a 
tree, and said : 

“Stop !” 

“We ’re all right !’* 

“ That you, Bob ?” 

“ Yes ; an’ here’s a pal an’ th’ sly cove frum Haw- 
ley’s bank.” 

“ All right, go on. He’s waitin’ at th’ cabin.” 

The wagon rolled up to the cabin, where Meeker 
and Arthur climbed out and went in. The chief 
and two or three men were waiting for them. 

“You come this time,” said Jackson, with lower- 
ing brow. 

“ Yes, I would have come before if — ” 

“ No explanations, sir. My eye is never off you, 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


^3 


and you cannot even think without my knowing 
your thoughts. Sit down.” 

Arthur felt very much as if he was taking his 
place on the scaffold when he sat in the chair. He 
shuddered, for he half believed the man really 
knew his thoughts. The bandit chief turned to 
Meeker and asked : 

“ Do you know for certain when the State funds 
will come ?” 

“ Thursday.” 

“ Thursday, and this is Tuesday,” said the bandit 
chief. “ We shall have to hurry matters or we shall 
^not be ready by Friday, and it must be done Fri- 
day. Devilish unlucky day, though.” 

“ Could you not put it off until Saturday ?” asked 
Meeker. 

“ It will be sure to come on Thursday ?” 

“ Certain.” 

‘^Then we can’t delay an hour longer than Fri- 
day. At half-past three, Friday afternoon, you can 
expect the fun to commence. If old Hawley is in 
the bank and resists we will shoot him as we would 
a wolf. The scoundrel has offered several rewards 
for us, dead or alive, and we have ‘ a crow to pick 
with him ’ anyway.” 

Arthur sat gazing at the rascals, deciding in his 
own mind that Meeker was the greatest knave of 
all. The chief at last turned his eyes on the book- 
keeper and said : 

“ Well, sir, I learn that you have been playing 
the gallant in Starkeville. You have carried your 
flirtation with the banker’s daughter too far.” 


314 Mysterioiis Mr. Howard. 


“ How can I help it ?” 

“ You must not go with her any more.” 

“ But if I should suddenly change my manner, 
suspicion would be aroused.” 

“ Between this and Friday, you can find excuses 
to keep you in the bank. If you are seen in her 
company again, no matter what the pretext, from 
some dark corner a bullet or knife-thrust will put 
an end to your illustrious career. I hope you un- 
derstand me.” 

Arthur, assured that they knew nothing of what 
had been done, whatever their suspicions might be^ 
assuming a look of injured innocence, said : 

What have I done to make 5^ou so suspi- 
cious ?” 

“ Nothing. You could do nothing without my 
knowledge. If you had gone far astray, you would 
have been wearing a wooden suit* long ere this, 
for we take no risks.” 

He became more at his ease, for he saw they 
were entirely off the track, and entered into the 
discussion of the proposed robbery with a zeal that 
deceived even the man calling himself Jackson, 
with all his boasted cunning. Jackson, the chief, 
asked many questions about the building, and who 
occupied the offices above. Then he gave Arthur 
and Meeker their final instructions. Meeker was 
to have all the cash within easy reach. He was to 
make a pretended resistance, but it was arranged 
that Arthur was to seize and bind him, and after 
assisting the two men who were to enter the bank 


* A coffin. 


Mysterious Mr, Howard, 


315 


to gather up the money, was to make his escape 
with them. 

“ On Friday afternoon, at half-past three, not ten 
minute^ sooner, or later, it will be done,” said the 
chief at parting. “ Until then, adieu.” 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

BAFFLED. 

The night was quite dark, but Bob Maddox was 
well acquainted with the woods, and drove back to 
town at a rate of speed that Jehu might have en- 
vied. Arthur and Meeker were set out in the sub- 
urbs, and the bookkeeper walked to his hotel alone. 
He knew he had been watched, and would be 
watched, but determined at all risks to communi- 
cate with General Hawley. He dared not write to 
him ; he knew it would be fatal to approach the 
house by daylight, so he decided to go there that 
night. To his joy, the night became intensely dark. 

At four in the morning the heavy fog had be- 
come a dense cloud, and a light mist like rain was 
falling. The tardy moon had risen, but its glory 
was veiled by mist and cloud. 


3i6 


]\Iysterious Mr. Howard. 


Arthur rose, and locking the door, put the key- 
in his pocket, then arming himself with a pair of 
reliable revolvers, went to the window, raised it, 
and by the aid of a rope with which he had taken 
the precaution to provide himself, climbed down to 
the shed roof below. He crept along the shed roof 
to the eaves, where there was a ladder, and climbed 
down into the back yard. More like an escaping 
thief than a man trying to do a noble deed, he 
scaled the wall, and hurried up an alley to the 
great mansion on the hill. 

He paused frequently on the way to listen and 
look, for he had every reason to believe that he was 
watched. At last the home of General Hawley was 
reached ; but now came the great difficulty. How 
was he to gain admission, or, what was more difficult, 
arouse General Hawley, without waking the house- 
hold } No doubt spies were at that moment watch- 
ing the house. He knew where General Hawley’s 
room was located. It was on the second floor in the 
rear, and a fire-escape led to the window. He found 
the foot of the iron ladder, and climbing to the 
window, tapped lightly on the glass with his fingers. 
The first tap drew no response, so he rapped again 
louder than before, and was rewarded by hearing 
a heavy footfall within. A voice said in a whisper •. 

“ Who is there ?” 

General Hawley, is it you ?” 

Yes.” 

“ I want to see you. I am your bookkeeper.” 

Can you enter at the rear, unseen by any 
watcher ?” 


MysierioiLs Mr, Howard. 


317 


“ I believe so. I have met no one yet.” 

“ I will be down in a moment and open the door.” 

Arthur crept noiselessly down the fire-escape, and 
a moment later was admitted at the rear hall door. 
It was so dark he could not see the person^ who ad- 
mitted him. 

“ Give me your hand,” whispered the General ; 
and taking his hand, he led him through perfect 
darkness to the General’s study. The blinds were 
closed and the curtains down, so the banker lighted 
the gas, without fear of being seen. “ Well, boy, 
you have something of importance to tell me ?” 

“ Yes, sir ; the day for the robbery is fixed.” 

‘‘ When was it fixed ?” 

“ To-night, and all the plans are laid.” 

“ You left town with Meeker ?” 

“ We went together to the consultation.” 

“ Yes, one of our men shadowed you, to the 
wagon, but was unable to keep up with you fur- 
ther.” 

“ One of your detectives from Chicago ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ How many have you here?” 

“ Four.” 

“ It is not enough.” 

“We will have local help when the time comes.” 

“ One of your men is at the hotel.” 

“ How do you know?” 

“ I gave him some matches to-night. Is any one 
guarding your premises ?” 

"" “ Yes.” 

“ I fear he has gone to sleep at his post. At any 


3i8 ATysterious Mr, Howard, 


rate, I did not meet him. But let us to business, for 
I must return in a few moments. Have you ar- 
ranged your plan of action ?’' 

“Yes. Four men are to be in Hale’s office over 
the bank. Hale and one man will come to my 
private office, and we will be there when the fun 
begins. There is a back stair from Hale’s office to 
the bank, and the other three will be on that stair, 
ready to rush in. The sheriff and two deputies 
will be in Cole’s hardware store, just across the 
street. Two more deputies will be in Clark & Bar- 
nard’s dry goods store, ak the side of the bank 
building, while the constable and six men on horse- 
back will be in Sam Miller’s livery stable, and at 
the first alarm will charge on the scene.” 

“The plan of defense certainly could not be bet- 
ter,” declared Arthur. 

“ There will be hot work there, my boy. Colonel 
Hale and I have fought in many a battle, and we 
are not too old to draw the sword again.” 

“ General,” said the young man, taking his hand 
and looking him in the face, “don’t you believe 
now that I told you the truth ?” 

“ I know it, my boy. I confess that I was stag- 
gered at first when you told me of Meeker, but I 
cannot question you now. No, boy, I doubt neither 
your truthfulness nor honesty. Be brave to the 
last, and you will come out all right.' There is 
going to be a scrimmage, but I would rather have 
Meeker taken unharmed if it can be done.” 

“ It can. It is a part of the programme that I 
am to bind him, in order to make you all believe 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


319 


lie is innocent. If I could arrange to have a pair 
of handcuffs in my room, I would iron him.” 

‘‘ They will be under your pillow to-morrow 
night.” 

“ Then all is understood. Remember, Friday 
afternoon at three-thirty !” 

General Hawley smiled and nodded. He was 
not liable to forget it. Arthur took his departure, 
crept back unseen to his room, went to bed and in 
a few moments was sound asleep? 

Arthur noticed next morning that Meeker was a 
little pale and nervous. The bookkeeper worked 
at his ledger in earnest, for he determined to show 
up all the scoundrel’s defalcations. He did not 
speak to Meeker during the day, but after he had 
gone to his room that night and was in the act of 
retiring, he heard a nervous tread in the hall, then 
a light tap on the door. 

“ Come in,” he said. 

It was Meeker. His white face seemed greatly 
agitated. 

“ How do you feel, Arthur ? I am as nervous as 
the deuce.” 

“You show it,” said Arthur coolly. “You must 
be careful or you will betray yourself.” 

“ I wish I was like you, my lad. I wish I could 
be cool and unconcerned. Your nerves must be of 
steel.” 

“ It is not prudent for us to be seen much to- 
gether.” 

“ No, no, but I must talk with you to-night. Do 
you suppose the State funds will reach here to- 


320 


Alysterious Mi\ Howard. 


morrow? A balk now would ruin all. Was there 
no signal agreed upon between you and the chief 
whereby you was to communicate to him the fact 
as he entered the town ?” 

“ Yes, I was to lay a red silk handkerchief on my 
desk by the window, if the funds had come. Don’t 
fail to do your part.” 

“ I will not. Have no fears but that I will be 
cool enough when the time comes, but just now I 
feel a kind of an all-overishness that upsets me 
quite.” 

“ Perhaps you do not sleep soundly.” 

“ Sleep ? Heavens, I have not slept for a week, 
and don’t expect to, until this business is over. It 
is a terrible thing to sell one’s self to Satan, and 
that is about what we have done. But we are in 
too far to back out now.” 

“ Would you back out if you could ?” 

“ No,” after a short silence. “ I am playing for a 
big stake, and I must win. I ’ll tell you a secret, 
my boy, now that our fates are so closely linked, 
which I would not have told otherwise. Five years 
ago, when I became cashier of this bank, Grace 
Hawley was nothing but a child, but I saw she 
would develop into a glorious woman, and I deter- 
mined to work myself into the good graces of the 
banker, gain his favor, and win his daughter while 
she was yet young and her affection tender. This 
desire increased as she budded into a most beauti- 
ful woman, and I came to love her — yes, I swear 
that I loved her. It would not have- made any dif- 
ference if I had not, for it was the bank I had 


Mysterious Mr, Howard, 


321 


started to win, and not a wife. From the first I 
fancied that she did not like me, though I lavished 
costly presents on her, which were often returned. 
Meanwhile I had created a fondness for speculation, 
and spent so much more money than my salary that 
I began to draw out of the bank, and by threats 
and entreaties induced the bookkeeper not to report 
my deficit, until I had a chance to save myself by 
marrying the banker’s daughter. 

“ At last I proposed, and was rejected. It made 
a demon out of me, to think that my only hope of 
safety was gone, and then I fell upon this scheme. 
By it I hope not only to save myself but to be re- 
venged' on her.” 

Arthur could hardly resist the temptation to rise 
and kick him from the room, but policy induced 
him to keep his temper and restrain his inclina- 
tions. After urging him to go home and get a 
night’s rest, he bade him good night at the door, 
which he closed and locked after him, and prepared 
to turn in to sleep. He felt some hard substance 
under his pillow, and on laying it back discovered 
a pair of handcuffs. With a smile, he said : 

“ General Hawley forgets nothing.” 

He placed the handcuffs in his coat pocket and 
next day concealed them in his desk at the bank. 

On Thursday the State funds arrived. Of course, 
their arrival was kept a secret. The cashier, clerks 
and bookkeeper were kept busy all day counting, 
recording and receipting for the amounts. 

Friday came at last. Mr. Meeker was almost as 
pale as a ghost, and his hand shook as if he could 


322 


Mystcriotis Mr, Howard. 


scarcely transact the ordinary business that came 
in his line. He made half-a-dozen mistakes during 
the day, and at last getting a chance to speak with 
Arthur unobserved, he whispered : 

“ I could not stand this another day. I wish it 
was over with.” 

It was twenty-five minutes after three, when the 
people on the streets saw two strange horsemen 
riding into town from the east. They wore straw 
hats and long ulsters, and had the appearance of 
farmers. Their presence, of course, attracted little 
attention. Three more, similarly attired, came from 
the north, and two from the west. There came' 
others, making nine in all, with ten horses, for one 
man was riding one horse and leading another, 
which had a saddle on its back, at his side. 

Some one on the street wondered who all them 
fellers” were, and what they were “ up to.” 

Arthur was at his desk near the window. He 
had dropped a red silk handkerchief over the side 
of the desk so that its folds spread down, covering 
almost one pane of glass in the window. 

The employees afterward remembered that Mr. 
Meeker had shown strong evidences of nervousness 
that afternoon. He was seen to cast frequent 
glances at the great clock and compare it with his 
watch, as if he had an important engagement, 
which must be met at the exact moment. From 
his window Arthur had a good view of the street. 
He saw two horsemen ride up to the crossing and 
stop. Despite his disguise, he recognized one as 
Jackson, his chief. 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


At this moment General Hawley, Colonel Hale 
and a stranger entered the bank from the front 
door. 

“ Come into my office and I will show you the 
papens,” said the General, and they hurried into 
his private office, closed the door after them, threw 
off their coats and grasped a weapon in each hand. 
Arthur had a revolver in his hip-pocket and two 
more in his desk, and he was as cool as a veteran 
going into battle. 

Suddenly there rose a yell on the air. Two 
horsemen galloped right up to the front of the bank 
building, flung themselves from their horses and 
leaped in at the door, yelling : 

“ Throw up your hands — throw up your hands !” 
flourishing large revolvers in the air to enforce 
their commands. The clerk shrieked in fright and 
fled. 

“ Tie me !” whispered Meeker, rushing to Arthur, 
who dropped his pen and seized the handcuffs. At 
this moment the door of the General’s office opened, 
and three men leaped into the bank. Three more 
came in from the rear. 

There was a rattling crash of firearms, and the 
air was darkened with smoke, and all was confusion. 
The two bandits who had started into the building 
sank lifeless in the great doorway. 

“ Sit down !” said Arthur, sternly, to the cashier, 
forcing his hands behind his back, handcuffing him 
in that position and fastening him to the chair so 
he could not move. 

“ Heavens, Arthur ! what does this mean ? 


324 


Mysteriotis Mr. Howard. 


Where did all those fellows come from ?” whined 
Meeker. 

“ Keep still !” cried Arthur, seizing his pistols 
and firing shot after shot through the window at 
the banditti on the street. Pandemonium reigned. 
Armed men seemed to spring up from the ground 
everywhere. The sheriff and all his deputies rushed 
to the scene, pouring in volley after volley, while 
there came a troop of cavalry at a charge from 
Miller’s livery-stable, pouring a stream of fire and 
death at the banditti. The would-be robbers were 
taken completely by surprise and were thoroughly 
demoralized. Two men lay dead in the doorway and 
another in the street. Four horses had been shot 
down and three more were wounded. They fled, 
leaving their dead and one prisoner behind. 

Colonel Hale gazed on the face of the man who 
had fallen in the street a moment, and his face 
seemed to light with a sudden thought. He tore off 
the false beard and wig, dragged the body to a lamp- 
post and leaned it against it in a half-sitting and 
half-reclining position, and then sent for a photog- 
rapher, while he stood guard over the dead ban- 
dit. The photographer came and made a negative 
of the dead bandit. 

What does this mean, Arthur ? Take these off !” 
said Meeker, when all was over. 

“ No, I will turn you over to the sheriff.” 

The cashier, for the first time, began to realize 
the truth, and gazing hard at the young man, he 
said : 

“ You have betrayed me, have you ?” 


Mysteriotis Mr. Howard. 


3^5 


“ You are a prisoner, Mr. Meeker.” 

“And you?” 

“ I shall give myself up to the sheriff and confess 
alL” 

“ Fool ! This will cost you your life !” 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

BEGINNING OF HORACE’S TRIAL. 

“ Oyez ! Oyez ! The honorable Circuit Court of 

County, State of Missouri, is now in session,"' cried 

the court bailiff, a man with a bullet head, short 
chin whiskers and two front teeth gone. There 
was a momentary hush in the Standish court-room, 
which was crowded to the very door. The specta- 
tors surged forward like a swelling tide to the thin 
rail that separated the bar from the others. The 
bar was filled with lawyers of every description. 
There were tall lawyers, short lawyers, thin law- 
yers and stout lawyers. Lawyers with bald heads, 
and lawyers possessing a superabundance of hair, 
of every shade, from sunny youth to the white frosts 
of winter ; all bustling about within their narrow 
pen called the bar. Some looked grave and serious, 


Mysterious Mr, Howard, 


\ 0 


26 


and some were smiling and pleasant. One was 
finishing in a whisper a joke, which he had begun 
aloud before Court opened. The Judge, a small 
man of sixty, with smooth-shaven face and hair 
nearly white, had just entered at a side door and 
taken his seat. He had a pleasant face, and looked 
like an intelligent man. He was set somewhat 
deep in his shirt collar, as if his head and his heart 
were near enough to hold easy communication. 

There, within the bar, at the side of a long table, 
sat Colonel Hale, examining some legal papers. 
All the attorneys knew him, for he frequently had 
business at the Standish Circuit Court. Mr. Hyatt 
was at his side, and they were discussing some 
point in a whisper. At the end of the long table 
sat Crompton, the Prosecuting Attorney (for so the 
State’s attorney in Missouri is called). Before him 
was a pile of papers which he had been examining, 
but after Court opened he leaned back in his chair, 
rubbed his hands, pale in their morning whiteness, 
while with his hawk-like eyes he cast furtive 
glances at the Judge and Colonel Hale. All the 
time his scalp was moving backward and forward 
as if he had just procured a new one, a trifle too 
large, but that might be filled up before night. All 
the time there was a subtle scorn upon his lips, the . 
flavor of which the finely curved nose apprehended 
with approval. 

Crompton was a keen prosecutor and as relentless 
as a bloodhound. He was regarded as one of the 
most difficult of all lawyers to unhorse in a case. 
Qn this morning, with his uneasy scalp, his white 


Mystej'ious J/r. Howard. 


327 


hands, his scornful lips and his thin, twitching- nos- 
trils, he looked the very impersonation of im- 
patience and contempt. If the whole Court had 
been thjonged with vermin, instead of human be- 
ings, among which he was compelled to sit, he 
could not have appeared more disgusted. 

Quite retired among the audience, and deeply 
veiled, sat Flora Wells, with Aunt Rachel, who 
had been persuaded once more to risk her life on 
the cars, sitting at her side. An important case 
was to be tried that day in which the whole country 
for many miles around was interested. This ac- 
counted for the court-room being so densely packed. 

People came from far and near, and had the 
court-room been four times as large, it could not 
have possibly held the throng. Among those at- 
tracted to the scene were Mr. and Mrs. Wells, from 
Wellsville. It was not a desire to witness a sensa- 
tional trial that brought these good people to Stan- 
dish,but a rumor which at the last moment reached 
their ears that their daughter was to be at the 
trial and sit by the criminal’s side. This disgrace, 
in addition to the publicity Flora had already 
gaindd, was too much for Mr. Wells, and he swore 
he would go to Standish and drag her from the 
court-room ; and the good wife and mother, fearing 
that he might make matters worse than they were, 
decided to accompany him. The merchant and his 
wife made their way to the center of the court-room, 
where they were compelled to stand, for no seat 
could be found that was not already occupied, while 
hundreds of others were standing all about them. 


328 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


“ I don’t see her anywhere,” said Mr. Wells to 
his wife, 

Perhaps after all she did not come,” whispered 
Mrs. Wells, with a sigh of relief. 

But the sharp eyes of the merchant at last espied 
a veiled figure in a corner near the bar seated by 
the side of a corpulent old lady, whom he recog- 
nized as Aunt Rachel. 

“ There she is now ;” and Mr. Wells began elbow- 
ing his way across the court-room to the veiled 
figure. 

Flora he hissed, hoarse with rage, on gaining 
her side — “why are you here? Como away at 
once !” 

With low sobs and tears she answered : 

“ Father, I cannot.” 

Poor girl, her heart was rent in twain. 

She loved her father and longed to obey his every 
wish, but she could not desert Horace now. 

The father, white with passion, bent over her and 
hissed : 

“ Flora, if you don’t come away with me, I swear 
by the Heaven above that I will disinherit you !” 

“ I wish I could obey you, father, not from fear 
of disinheritance ; but I cannot go.” 

A tall, giant countryman, in shirt sleeves, with 
his jeans pants in his cowhide boot-tops, who had 
elbowed his way into the court-room, and was near 
enough to hear the voice of the merchant without 
comprehending a word he said, and being some- 
what pugilistic from liquor, at this moment put in 
with : 


I\[ystcrio2is ]\Ir. Hozuard. 


329 


“ Say, old feller, wot ye jawin’ that leetle gal fur? 
Want ’er t’ give ye her seat, do ye? Now, dog on 
yer lazy pictur’, leave her alone an’ stand like me.” 

With swelling indignation, the merchant turned 
on the countryman, and said : 

“ Mind your own business !” 

“ Don’t 3’’e give me any o’ yer slack, ur I’ll pitch 
ye out o’ ther winder !” 

Some friends near the giant interposed to quiet 
him, or he might have carried out his threat. Mr. 
Wells went back to his wife, saying: 

“ I can’t do anything with her. You go and try.” 

Mrs. Wells was a brave little woman, and it was 
at some risk that she made her way through the 
“ jeans pants ” and “ cowhide boots ” to her daugh- 
ter. 

“ Flora, won’t you come away with your mother?” 
Mrs. Wells asked. 

Sobbing bitterly, the girl answered : 

“ Mother, if it was father, would you leave him ? 
Would you not think it cruel if you should be 
dragged from his side at such an awful moment ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Then please don’t ask me to go.” 

Mrs. Wells looked about for her husband, but 
he was lost in the surging tide of humanity. 

“ Silence in Court !” cried the bailiff. 

The Judge opened the Motion Docket, and some 
time was spent in calling up motions and disposing 
of them. A few technical questions of law, in which 
the attorneys had a chance to air their legal knowl- 
edge, were discussed, then the Judge declared the 


330 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


motion hour over, and turning to the Criminal 
Docket, called : 

“ ‘ State of Missouri versus Horace Rathburne/ 
Is the defendant in Court, Mr. Sheriff ?” 

“ No, sir ; I can have him here in a moment.” 

“ Bring him in at once.” 

The Judge then called up some little unimportant 
matters, and questioned several attorneys in regard 
to them ; there rose a little discussion, during 
which the prisoner was brought in. Horace was 
very pale, but calm and unmoved. Flora sent a 
boy to Colonel Hale with a note, and the Colonel, 
who was on familiar terms with the Judge, went to 
him and asked him something in a whisper, to which 
his Honor was heard to say : “ Certainly.” The 
Colonel motioned to Flora ; she came forward and 
took a seat by the prisoner. 

Mr. Wells was heard to say : 

“ She is determined to go to the devil,” and 
clapping his hat on his head, hurried from the 
court-room ; but the gentle little mother stole into 
the bar and took a seat near her child. The Judge 
saw the act, but was too much moved by it to re- 
buke her. 

Horace was told to stand up. The indictment 
was read to him, and the Judge asked him if he was 
guilty or not guilty. 

“Not guilty!” he answered, in a clear, • ringing 
tone. 

“ Be seated. Now, gentlemen, are you ready for 
trial?” 

A moment’s confusion, with some little legal 


Alysterious Mr. Howard. 


331 


sparring, followed, and then both prosecution and 
defense announced themselves ready. Several re- 
porters for the St. Louis, Chicago and Kansas City 
dailies were present, who did not neglect the sen- 
sational part of the trial. Flora’s refusal to be 
driven from her lover by her angry father, was de- 
scribed in glowing headlines, and many a pretty 
actress’s picture was used to represent the features 
of the outlaw’s sweetheart. 

Nearly the entire day was taken up in impanel- 
ing a jury. After the jury was impaneled, the 
Court charged them not to discuss the case with 
any one, or with one another, put them in charge 
of a deputy sheriff, and the Court adjourned until 
next day. 

‘‘Where is father?” Flora asked, turning to her 
mother, when the prisoner had been taken back to 
jail. 

“ Perhaps he has gone home,” Mrs. Wells an- 
swered. 

“ Mother, won’t you stay with me ?” 

“ Yes, dear.” 

Taking Colonel Hale aside, the anxious girl said : 

“ What do you think of the chances of an acquit- 
tal, cousin ?” 

“ We will do our best,” he answered, gravely. 

“ Has the man on the roan horse with the black 
ear been found?” 

“ Not yet.” 

“ Heaven grant he may,” she said, and turning to 
her mother, went with her to the hotel where she 
and Aunt Rachel were stopping. 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


332 


As a pebble may change the current of a river, 
so small things may turn the tide of public opinion. 
The action of Flora Wells began to have its effect 
on the public. They came to admire the brave girl 
who refused to desert her lover in adversity. Some 
thought, if she had such confidence in his inno- 
cence, perhaps he was not guilty. Those who had 
once been most firm in the belief that he ought to 
be hung, began to doubt, and from doubting be- 
came convinced he must be innocent. 

Next morning at the opening hour the jurymen 
were all in their seats, the prisoner in his place, his 
sweetheart, very pretty but pale, on one side and 
Colonel Hale on the other, while Mrs. Wells sat 
just back of them. It was an impressive -sight, and 
even the stern Judge was moved by it. After the 
panel had been called, the prosecuting attorney, 
with his scornful lips and thin, twitching nostrils, 
rose to open the case. 

“ May it please the Court and gentlemen of the 
jury,” he began, and proceeded to tell what the 
“ State ” expected to prove, giving the story of the 
robbery and the manner in which the defendant 
was connected with it, all of which has been de- 
tailed to the reader. When he had concluded, the 
Judge said : 

“ Call the witnesses for the State.” 

The clerk, with a list of the witnesses on the 
back of a subpoena, rose from his desk and 
called : 

‘‘ Enoch Ralls, Jack Anglin, Cris Martin, John 
Layman, Ben Dougan, Gabriel Hart, Mollie Burton, 


AIystc7'ious Mr. Howard. 


333 


Samuel Denton,” continuing- until fifteen persons 
rose and Stood before him in line to be sworn. 

When this ceremony had been performed, Colonel 
Hale rose and said : 

“ May it please the Court, under the rule, I ask 
for a severance of the witnesses.” 

Mr. Crompton, with an almost scornful expression 
of features, sniffed the air and suggested that the 
same rule might apply to the defense. 

“ We have no witnesses ii\ the court-room now,” 
answered Colonel Hale. 

Mr. Crompton looked about him, sniffed the air, 
and said that should any come in during the trial 
the order must be enforced against them. The 
Judge assured him it would, and they proceeded : 

“ Whom will you have first?” asked the Judge. 

“ Enoch Ralls.” 

All other witnesses for the prosecution were told 
to retire from the court-room, but wait within call 
when wanted, and Enoch took the stand. After the 
usual preliminary in important cases, telling where 
he lived and how long he had lived there, and what 
he did to support himself and family, he came down 
to the date of the robbery, and stated that he and 
“ some o’ the boys were a-settin’ on the porch, and 
saw strangers come into town,” and then followed 
the pretended horse deal ; and he told how two men 
had dismounted and gone into the bank to get a bill 
changed, and while he was showing Jack how well 
the dark -brown “hoss was quartered an’ what a fine 
chist he had, they begin yellin’ and shootin’. The 
defendant was ridin’ a skittish hoss, which throwed 


334 


Afysteriot^s Mr. Howard. 


him just as witness and Jack ran into each other 
and fell. The defendant fell on Enoch’s back, and 
a’most knocked the breath clean out o’ him. The 
wig and whiskers came off, and he saw his face be- 
fore he had time to jump up behind the other feller 
and gallop away.” 

“ You saw his face ?” said Mr. Crompton. 

“ Jist as plain ez I see your’n now,” answered 
Enoch, with a nasal drawl. 

“Who was he?” * 

“ He wuz Horace Rathburne.” 

“ The prisoner at the bar ?” 

“ Yes, sir ; that feller settin’ thar.” 

“ You are quite sure that you are not mistaken ?” 

“ Oh, I know I hain’t mistaken.” 

“ Take the witness,” said Mr. Crompton, elevating 
his nose as if he had completed the case and there 
was^no further need of delay. 

Colonel Hale proceeded to cross-examine the wit- 
ness. 

“ Did the man fall very heavily?” 

“Wall, he knocked me flat.” 

“ Did you fall on your back or face ?” 

“ I fell on my face.” 

“ How do you remember you fell on your face ?” 

“ I jammed my mouth, nose an’ eyes in the dust.” 

“Can a man see with his eyes full of dust?” 

“Yes, ef he ain’t got too much in ’erq.” 

“ Can he see as well with any dust in his eyes as 
without ?” 

“No, I reckon he can’t,” scratching his head. 

“ And yet you swear positively you knew the 


Mysteriolis Mr. Howard. 


335 


man, though you had dust in your eyes, was stunned 
by the fall, and his face visible but two or three 
seconds?” 

Dog on et, I didn’t see what ye waz a drivin’ 
at,” answered Enoch, rubbing his bald head. 

“ Never mind what I am driving at. I want to 
see what you are driving at.” 

“ Wall, Kernel, I could see well enuff t’ tell it 
wuz Horace Rathburne. I ain’t got nuthin’ agin 
him ; we never had any fuss, but I hain’t goin t’ lie 
t’ save anybody.” 

“ No one wants you to lie, Mr. Ralls. We only 
want to know if there may not be a doubt as to the 
man you saw. There is such a thing as mistaken 
identity.” 

“ Wall, thar hain’t no mistaken identity ’bout this. 
I know et war him.” 

All efforts to shake the positiveness of the witness 
were in vain. Flora, whose hopes had fluctuated 
during the cross-examination, was in despair when 
Enoch Ralls left the stand. Mr. Crompton next 
called Jack Auglin. 

This witness was better in some particulars than 
Enoch, though he was just a little less certain than 
the preceding witness. He told about the same 
story, and ended it with the recognition of the de- 
fendant. Colonel Hale tried to trip him on cross- 
examination, but all in vain, and he left the stand 
with a strong impression on the minds of the jury 
that he had told a ’truth. 

Witness after witness testified, and Flora was 
in despair. She occasionally turned her white face 


336 


Mysterious Air. Howard. 


appealingly to the Judge or jury, but usually stared 
at the witnesses. Such a web of indisputable testi- 
mony was woven about the defendant that it 
seemed impossible for him ever to extricate himself 
from it. His face was firm but very pale. He sel- 
dom glanced at the witnesses, jury or court ; his 
eyes were continually on Flora’s white face. The 
sheriff was at last put on the stand to testify to some 
unimportant matter, and when Colonel Hale came 
to cross-examine him, he asked : 

“ Do you know what became of the horse which 
threw the robber ?” 

“ Yes, sir, I have it my barn.” 

“ What is the color of the horse ?” 

“ A dark bay, with a star in its forehead.” 

-- Nothing seemed to have been gained by the cross- 
examination. The day was almost spent when the 
prosecution closed, having made one of the clearest 
cases ever known in that Court. 

Flora heard two lawyers not engaged in the case 
talking in whispers about the probable result 

“ What do you think of it ?” one asked. 

“ He ’ll get twenty-five years.” 

“ He ’ll be hanged before he starts to Jefferson,” 
returned the other. Those careless, idle words 
went like daggers to the heart of Flora. 

When called upon to open for the defense. Colo- 
nel Hale rose and said that, owing to the lateness 
of the hour, he would ask for ajjostponement until 
the next morning, especially .as he wanted to con- 
sult with his client and associate counsel in regard 
to the line of defense they would adopt. 


Mysterious Mr, Hozvard. 


337 


Flora did not know what he was asking ; her ears 
were humming and her eyes swimming with tears. 
She turned to the window to conceal her emotion. 
The window was open, for the air was close and 
stifling. She saw two horsemen riding down the 
street toward the court-house. At first she gave 
them a casual glance, and then as one of the men 
on near approach became familiar, she looked 
closely at both. One was Josiah Hunt, her dis- 
carded suitor, and the other a stranger. She fixed 
her eyes on Josiah’s companion and his steed, and 
uttered a wild shriek : 

“ God be praised ! He has come — he has come ! The 
stranger 07i the roaji horse with the black ear H 

/ 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

A STRANGE DENOUEMENT. 

The prisoner so far forgot himself as to leap to 
the window to get a glimpse of the long-sought 
witness to establish his alibi. His act was mistaken 
for an attempt at escape, and a deputy, seizing him 
by the shoulder, pulled him back to his seat, saying : 

“ No, ye don’t, my fine fellow. Try that again, 
and dog on my hide and taller if I don’t put the 
nippers on ye.” 

There was general uproar and confusion. Some 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


one said the prisoner was trying to escape, and 
many who had sympathized with him for “his girl’s 
sake,’’ now cried : 

“ Hang him ! Hang him, or he’ll get away !” 

Pdora screamed and clung to her lover, the sheriff, 
bailiff and deputies demanded order, and the Judge 
threatened to fine some one. 

Colonel Hale alone kept perfectly cool. He finally 
got the ear of both Court and audience and ap- 
pealed for an adjournment until morning. He as- 
sured them that the prisoner had only gone to the 
window to look out, and that what the young woman 
had said was not a preconcerted signal for him to 
escape, as was claimed. 

“ Give us one day for the defense ; it is all we 
ask,” he said. 

The Judge thought that was only fair, and the 
prisoner was taken back to jail, and Court ad- 
journed. 

As Flora, plunged in the deepest despair, was 
taken from the court-room by her mother and Aunt 
Rachel, she asked her cousin : 

“ Will you have any witnesses to-morrow ?” 

“ Wait and we will see,” he answered. 

At the appointed hour on the following morning 
the Court resumed its sessions. The attorneys for 
the State and defense were in their places and the 
prisoner was brought in. It was remarked that he 
was paler than the day before, but calm, and evidently 
resigned to his fate. Flora, accompanied by her 
mother and Aunt Rachel, entered and took her ac- 
customed plac^, The reporters, telegraphing the 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


339 


trial to the great dailies, stated that she was a trifle 
paler than the day before, and had the appearance 
of being less hopeful than at any time during the 
trial. 

A rumor had gone forth that a roan horse with a 
black ear had something to do with the case, and 
the crowd, if possible, was more dense than on the 
day before. Men were actually crowding and flght- 
ing to get into the court-room. 

“Gentlemen for the defense, are you ready?” 
asked the Judge. 

“ We are, your Honor.” 

“ Have you any witnesses ?” 

“ There is onl)^ one in court ; the others will 
come as we need them. While I am examining 
this witness, a photographer with a powerful in- 
strument for throwing colored views upon a 
smooth, white surface will be fitting up his instru- 
ment.” 

Mr. Crompton rose, and with a sneer on his lips 
wanted to know if the Court was going to resolve 
itself into a magic-lantern show. Colonel Hale, 
equally as sarcastic, regretted that the gentleman’s 
scientific education had been neglected, but stated 
that he wanted to introduce some evidence to the 
Court and jury which could not be done without the 
aid of a calcium-light instrument, which he had 
provided, in order to enlarge and make a perfect 
figure to be seen by all. 

“ Proceed, Mr. Hale,” said the Judge. “ If there 
is anything inadmissible in the use of this instru- 
ment, Mr. Crompton,” the Judge added, “ I think 


340 


Alystcrioits Mr. Howard. 


I will have sense enough to stop him in time. Call 
your first witness, Colonel Hale.’’ 

“ Mr. Hiram Bunce.” 

Mr. Bunce came forward, was sworn, and took th.e 
stand. He was a farmer and lived a few miles from 
Wellsville. He was forty-six years of age, and 
knew defendant well. Three days before the rob- 
bery at Standish he had sold the defendant a horse. 
It was a light, sorrel horse, with a mane and tale 
almost white. After his arrest he had seen the 
same horse which defendant had sold to Mr. Lyons. 
It was the same horse which the defendant rode at 
the time of his arrest. Witness had seen the horse 
in the possession of the sheriff from which it was 
said the bandit fell, and it was not like the one he 
sold defendant. 

When Mr. Crompton was told to take the witness, 
he merely elevated his nose higher in the air and 
said he did not want him, implying very plainly by 
his words and manner that what he had stated had 
no bearing whatever on the case. 

“Stand aside,” said the Judge. “Now, Colonel 
Hale, are you ready with your experiment ?” 

“Yes, let us have the magic-lantern show,” put 
in Crompton, rubbing his hands and sneering. 

“ Before the court-room is darkened and the in- 
strument put in operation,” said the Colonel, “ I 
want to recall Mr. Enoch Ralls.” 

“If you recall him, he is your witness,” put in 
Crompton quickly, “ and you lose all right of cross- 
examination.” 

“ I waive all such rights.” 


Mystcrioiis Mr. Howard. 


341 


A platform was ranged on one side of the court- 
room. Fortunately the opposite wall was smooth, 
white and unbroken by windows. By this time 
Enoch Ralls, with a look of wonder on his face, his 
hat in hand, came into the court-room, and was 
asked to take the witness-stand. 

As the shutters were closed, the room became ^ 
gradually dark, and the faces of Judge, jury and 
amazed spectators grew weird and wan among the 
shadows. Enoch shivered from head to foot, and 
wanted to know if they were “ goin’ t’ hev a seance ?” 

“ Silence !” cried the Judge, and his voice sounded 
strange and sepulchral. 

A solemn silence and awe fell upon the crowd. 
Every one expected some awful voice to speak, pro- 
claiming the doom or innocence of the prisoner. 
All felt as a man might, if conscious of the darkness 
of the tomb, when waiting for the trump of resur- 
rection and the breaking of everlasting day. Men 
and women heard their own hearts beat, like the 
tread of marshalling hosts. Flora clung to her lover 
and whispered : 

“ What does it mean ?” 

The voice of Colonel Hale came out from the 
darkness, saying : 

“ I want this witness and the jury to fix their 
eyes upon the wall on the east side of the court- 
room. All ready, Mr. Tull, turn on your light and 
arrange the focus.” There was a clicking sound at 
the instrument, and a great calcium light appeared 
on the wall, which, as the instrument became prop- 
erly adjusted, grew more perfect. The lawyer 


34 2 Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


whispered something to Mr. Tull ; there was a click, 
a sliding sound at the instrument, and the next mo- 
ment the life-size face and form of the defendant 
appeared on the wall. He was reclining on the 
pavement, his head resting against a lamp-post, a 
pair of false whiskers, wig and revolver lying on 
the ground at his side, his eyes were closed in 
death, and the blood streaming from a mortal 
wound in his breast. So ghastly, terrible, yet so 
real was the. scene that women shrieked, men 
shuddered, and Flora, clinging to her lover, whis- 
pered : 

“ Horace, Horace, it is not you ! It is not you !” 

“ Mr. Ralls,” said the Colonel, “ tell me whose 
image you see on the wall.” 

After shivering a moment, the witness answered : 

“Wall, et looks mighty like Horace.” 

“ Does it not look like the man who fell on your 
back during the bank robbery?” 

“Yes, it does.” 

“ How much like him ?” 

“ Exactly like him.” 

He was told to stand aside, and Jack Auglin 
was called for. 

“ May it please the Court,” said Colonel Hale, 
“ there are two persons whom I wish to see this re- 
flection on the wall, if the Court will permit them 
to come and look at it. I do not care to ask them 
any questions just now, but perhaps after a while I 
shall. I want them to see it, however.” 

The Court granted his request, and General Haw- 
ley and Arthur Westfall, of Starkeville, were sent 


Mysterious Jl/r. Howard. 


343 


for. Of course, the attempt at robbing the Hawley 
bank was fresh on the mind of everybody in the 
court-room. Arthur’s connection with the affair 
had been so generously misrepresented as to make 
him a heroic detective, who had joined the banditti 
for the purpose of entrapping them. Though it 
was dark when they entered the room, as soon as it 
became known that Arthur Westfall was present, 
three rousing cheers were given for the hero of 
Starkeville. 

“ Silence ! Silence !” shouted the court bailiff ; 
and .when order was restored. Colonel Hale’s voice 
was heard saying : 

“ 1 hope that all are gazing on the figure on the 
wall. Do you see it, Jack Auglin ?” 

“Yes, sir,” answered Jack with a shudder. 

“ Whom does it look like ?” 

“ Why, I believe it looks like Horace, only I don’t 
believe he is shot and dead— is he ?” 

“ Do you think it possible that the mail whose* 
image you see on the wall was the same who fell 
from his horse on the day of the robbery ?” 

“ Wall, he looks like him, ’bout same size, clothes 
and everything.” 

“ Do you say it is the same ?” ^ 

“ Yes.” 

“ That will do.” 

The light was turned off, the window shutters 
open, and the glorious light of the sun once more 
filled the whole room, driving the ghastly figure 
from the wall, and revealing the serious and fright- 
ened faces of the jurors and spectators. 


344 


Myster^o^is Mr. Howard. 


“ Now, may it please the Court,” said Colonel 
Hale, “ I want Mr. Tull, the photographer, sworn.” 

He was sworn and took the witness-stand. 

“ Tell the jury, Mr. Tull, whose likeness that was 
reflected on the wall ?” 

“ It was the likeness of one of the three robbers 
killed two weeks ago while trying to rob the Haw- 
ley bank in Starkeville.” 

“ Who made the negative of the dead robber?” 

I did.” 

“ Do you consider the likeness a good one ?” 

“It is as perfect a likeness as I ever saw,” he 
answered. 

“ Take the witness, Mr. Crompton.” 

Mr. Crompton, who saw that his cause was really 
in danger, was roused like a war-horse and came to 
the charge. But he found the photographer a bar- 
rier not to be easily carried. His evidence was un- 
shaken. General Hawley next took the stand and 
testified to the same as Mr. Tull. Arthur was called, 
and stated that the reflection on the wall was an 
excellent life-size image of Joe Kerry, one of the 
Missouri bandits whom he had seen on several oc- 
casions, who was killed at Starkeville. A cross-ex- 
aminatioiii brought out the fact that witness had 
been discharged from Mark Hunt’s store on the 
charge of having stolen money from the till. 

“He didn’t do it!” cried a voice in the court- 
room, and Josiah Hunt elbowed his way through 
the crowd toward Court and jury. “ No, Judge and 
gentlemen of the jury, Arthur is innocent of that 
charge. Ab Nichols is the real thief. He was 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


345 


caught last week stealing, and confessed to taking 
the money of which Arthur was accused. The 
Judge remembers that he held a special term and 
sent him up for five years.” 

All the while, Mr. Crompton, who had leaped to 
his feet, was making furious efforts to stop him, 
and objecting to outside speeches or unsworn testi- 
mony. 

“Very well,” put in Colonel Hale, when the pros- 
ecuting attorney had somewhat subsided, “ we will 
have Mr. Hunt sworn, and he can tell his story 
over.” 

“ It makes no difference,” roared Crompton. 
“ That has no bearing on the case.* We are not 
trying Arthur Westfall, but Horace Rathburne. A 
dozen witnesses have sworn he was guilty, and all 
this magic-lantern business is irrelevant, and I ob- 
ject to it.” 

“ Your objection is overruled, Mr. Crompton,” 
said the Judge. 

“ Then I will save my exceptions. I will see if 
the Supreme Court will allow magic-lantern testi- 
mony.” 

“ Proceed, Colonel Hale,” said the Judge, after 
Mr. Crompton had subsided. 

“ Call Reverend John Grogan,” said Colonel Hale, 
in a cool, unmoved manner, which went to prove 
that he was master of the situation. At the name 
Flora started, clutched her lover’s arm and whis- 
pered : 

“ Is it he ?” 

Horace gazed back along the aisle and saw a 


34^ 


Mysterious J/r. Howard. 


pleasant-faced man, with blue eyes and dark-brown, 
well-trimmed beard, coming toward the witness- 
stand. 

“ It is he,” he answered. 

Mr. Grogan was sworn and took the stand. He 
stated that he was a minster of the Gospel in the 
Methodist Episcopal Church, and was what was 
called a Circuit Rider. 

“ Do you remember the day the Standish bank 
was robbed ?” asked Colonel Hale. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Where were you between three and five o’clock 
on that afternoon ?” 

“ About twenty-five miles south, or, rather, a little 
west of south, of this town, going to my appoint- 
ment to preach the Sabbath following. My ap- 
pointments are far apart, and I have to travel a 
great distance to reach some of them.” 

“ Were you alone on that particular afternoon ?” 

“No, sir.” 

“ Who was with you ?” 

“ A young man named Rathburne.” 

“ Do you remember the kind of a horse he rode ?” 

“Yes, sir; a sorrel horse with a very light mane 
and tail.” 

“ How long were you in this man’s company?” 

“ I suppose it was between two and three o’clock 
in the afternoon when we met, and it was six be- 
fore we separated.” 

“ If you have any particular reason for knowing 
it was six, state that reason to the jury.” 

“ I remember, just as we parted, glancing at my 


Mysterious IMr. Howard. 


347 


watch to see how much time 1 had to make it to a 
member of my Bear Creek charge, and that it was 
just six o’clock.’* 

“ Did you converse much with your travelling 
companion that afternoon?” 

“ Yes, sir. We talked nearly all the time we were 
together.” 

“On what subject?” 

“ Science, philosophy, and politics.” 

“ Did Mr. Rathburne say anything about him- 
self?” 

“ Yes, sir — said he had been clerking for Mr. Jor- 
dan Wells of Wellsville.” 

“ How long since he had quit ?” 

“I don’t remember that he told me exactly; 
nevertheless, he left the impression on my mind 
that he had very recently left his employ.” 

“ Now, Mr. Grogan, look about the room and in- 
form the jury if you recognize your travelling com- 
panion of that afternoon.” 

“ There he is !” the witness immediately an- 
swered, pointing to the defendant. 

“ Take the witness.” 

Crompton, with the energy of despair, plied the 
witness with questions on cross-examination, to try 
to make him contradict himself, or shake his cer- 
tainty, but all to no purpose. Seeing that he was 
gaining nothing, he at last said : 

“ That will do.” 

“ Call your next, Colonel Hale.” 

“ May it please the Court, we rest/’ said Colonel 
Hale, 


348 


Mysterious Air, Howard. 


“ Have you anything in rebuttal, Mr. Crompton ?” 

‘‘ I believe not, your Honor.” 

“ Gentlemen of the jury, give attention while I 
read the instructions.” ^ 

According to the law in Missouri, the Judge read 
his instructions to the jury, which he had written, 
defining the law in this particular case. Among 
other things, he said they must believe the accused 
guilty beyond a reasonable doubt of the offense 
charged before they could find him guilty, defining 
a reasonable doubt to be a substantial doubt grow- 
ing out of the evidence and not a mere suspicion of 
his innocence. The jury were instructed that they 
might consider the reflection of the dead outlaw 
thrown upon the wall, and the evidence of others 
concerning it, with -the admissions of Ralls and' 
Anglin, and if they believed there was a mistake 
in the identity of Ralls and Auglin, and that the 
dead outlaw might have been the person they saw 
instead of the defendant, they were to find him not 
guilty. In fact, the evidence and instructions of 
the Court were so clearly against the prosecution 
that Mr. Crompton offered to dismiss the case, but 
Colonel Hale insisted on a verdict of the jury for 
two reasons : P'irst, it would be a bar to any other 
prosecution for the same offense; second, it would 
more completely vindicate the defendant in the 
public mind. So, without argument, the case went 
to the jury. 

The Colonel was really a power in the law. He 
was the only man in the court-room who was per- 
fectly composed. The crowd was completely revo- 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


349 


lutionized in opinion, and as ready to carry the ac- 
cused out on their shoulders as they were a few mo- 
ments before to hang him. Flora could not under- 
stand what it all meant, and dread of a conviction 
at last clung like ice at her heart. 

Like one in a dream, Horace sat gazing on her 
face. He was conscious of the jury retiring, of a 
subdued uproar for a few moments, then of the 
jury filing into the room again. 

“ Silence !” cried the court bailiff. 

When order was partially restored, the clerk rose 
and called the names of the jurors, and each an- 
swered. 

“ Gentlemen, have you found a verdict?’ asked 
the Judge. 

' “ We have, your Honor,” answered the foreman 
handing him a slip of paper. 

The Judge opened the paper and read : 

“ We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty — ” 
that was as far as he could be heard. Wild yells 
and cheers drowned his voice, but tears were seen 
coursing down his cheeks. 

“ Free, free — oh, God be praised !” shrieked Flora, 
swooning in her lover’s arms. 

The scene that followed is beyond description. 
Some wept and some shouted and danced for joy. 
Horace heard not the tumult that raged about him, 
for he was bending over the insensible girl to whose 
love and devotion he owed his present liberty. 


350 


Alysterious Air. Howard. 


CHAPTER XXXVL 

CONCLUSION. 

Horace Rathburne never exactly knew how they 
reached the hotel. His vision was blurred, objects 
were dimly seen, and the voices of those about him 
sounded unreal and far away. He could not have 
told whether the sun shone or not ; he was dazed, 
confused and could scarcely believe himself awake. 

They were in the hotel ; he was bending over a 
cot on which Flora had been laid. One arm sup- 
ported her head, and a doctor was administering 
restoratives and assuring the weeping mother that 
she was coming “out of it.” He made some re- 
mark about nervous strain and reaction. Aunt 
Rachel ran from hall to hall, room to room and up 
and down the flight of stairs, making the walls echo 
with her shouts : 

“ Th’ camp-fire, git the camp-fire — she ’s fainted ! 
Where iz yer camp-fire ?” until some one told her 
the doctor was doing all that could be done and no 
camphor was needed. 

Mr. Wells, sitting on a curbstone mopping his 
florid brow with his handkerchief, was frequently 
heard to mutter : 

Well, it does beat all creation ! I did the fellow 


Alysterious Mr, Howard. 


351 


an injustice, but Flora more than made up for my 
sins.” 

Gradually Flora regained her consciousness, and 
when she first opened her eyes they fell upon the 
faces of the two she loved most, Horace and her 
mother. She raised her feeble arms, and placing 
them about the neck of each, drew them toward 
her, and whispered : 

“ Is it real, or a dream ?” 

‘‘ It is real,” he answered. 

She was soon able to sit up, and, looking about, 
asked : 

“ Where is papa ?” 

Aunt Rachel, having been at last convinced that 

camp-fire ” was not needed, volunteered to go and 
find Jordan. He was found, and, by earnest per- 
suasions, brought into the presence of his daughter, 
who, taking his hands in her own, pulled him down 
to her, kissed his cheek, and whispered : 

“ Papa, Horace is innocent !” 

“ I know it,” he answered, and turning, he grasped 
his former clerk’s hand, and added : “ Horace, I ’ve 
been a blamed fool. Forgive the past, and you 
can be head salesman in my store, if you want the 
place.” 

“ The past is forgiven, Mr. Wells, but my plans 
are not formed yet.” 

At this moment a brass band, accompanied by a 
thousand men and boys, shouting and yelling, was 
heard coming down the street. They stopped in 
front of the hotel and called so loudly for Horace 
and Flora that they were compelled to make their 


352 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


appearance, and the crowd cheered until all were 
hoarse. Horace stepped out onto the hotel veranda 
and thanked the people for their kindness in the 
expression of sympathy and joy they had demon- 
strated. He found himself talking with ease, even 
eloquently, as he warned them against hasty judg- 
ment, and advised the exercise of the law in punish- 
ing men suspected of a crime. He had no doubt 
but that this was the same crowd that had gathered 
about the jail to hang him, and thought it a good 
opportunity to give them a lecture. His speech 
surprised no one more than himself, for he had 
never dreamed that he possessed any ability as an 
orator. When Colonel Hale was called on for a 
speech, he declared that he was unable to say as 
much as the young man who had preceded him. 
He hoped they would remember what he had said, 
and always wait until both sides of a case were 
heard before they formed or expressed an opinion. 

At last the crowd dispersed and our friends went 
down to dinner, where Horace was formally intro- 
duced to Arthur Westfall and General Hawley. 
Josiah Hunt, the man who had found the mysteri- 
ous roan horse with a black ear, joined them, and 
declared the outcome of the trial more enjoyable 
than a booming fall trade. 

“ By the way, Arthur,” he added, “ if you want 
the best place in our store you can have it.” 

“ My plans are not formed — ” began Arthur. 

Why, my dear fellow, you have just been chosen 
cashier of the Hawley Bank, at thirty-five hundred 
per year,” declared General Hawley. “No dry- 


Mysterious Mr. Jioivard. 


353 


goods house outside the city can pay you that 
salary !” 

Arthur looked up in surprise and asked : 

“ Would you really intrust me with so responsible 
a position?” 

“ I would. I do ; it is all settled.” 

• A friendship naturally sprang up between Horace 
and Arthur, and they were late together that night 
when all others had retired, each telling his own 
story. 

“ Will you be prosecuted?” Horace asked. 

“ Colonel Hale assures me not. Everybody will 
have it that I was a detective at the beginning, and 
joined the band to work their capture. If I should 
be arrested, or charged with the crime, I would be 
pardoned by the Governor, who knows it all.” 

“ And this Miss Hawley, whose pretty ears you 
saved from the bandit’s knife, and whom you fell in 
love with at first sight — have you proposed to her?” 

“ No, no !” gasped Arthur, trembling at the 
thought. 

“ Why don’t you ?” 

“ How could I dare, when she knows what I have 
been ?” / 

“ My dear friend, you don’t realize the height 
and depth and strength of a woman’s love. It is 
boundless as space, and, like charity, covers a multi- 
tude of sins. Propose, marry her, and be happy.” 

“ Oh, if I dared ! If I could only hope to win her 
I would be the happiest of all living men !” 

You can ; you must, or you will make both your- 
self and her miserable,” said Horace. 


354 


Mystert 07 is Mr. Howard. 


Next morning, Colonel Hale came to his client 
and said : 

“Young man, you are poor and in love. Jordan 
Wells is rich, and, I have no doubt, will settle a 
handsome dower on his daughter ; but you are too 
proud to accept that. A clerkship will give you a 
living, but no more. Now, I have watched yon 
closely through the most trying ordeal one ever 
passed, and I noted that your coolness, judgment 
and sagacity will make you an excellent lawyer. My 
practice is growing too large for me ; if you will 
enter upon the study of law, I will see you through, 
and the day you are admitted will make you a full 
partner. On that same day you can marry the girl 
whose love you can never doubt.” 

The whole matter was arranged then and there, 
and when Mr. Wells heard of it he declared : 

“ All right ! If John says you ’ll make a lawyer, 
you will. He knows all about it.” 

Horace accompanied Flora Wells and her parents 
home, and after a day or two spent among friends 
and acquaintances, took the train for Starkeville to 
commence his studies. It is needless to say that 
he lost no time, and that the progress he made 
astonished even Colonel Hale, who had expected 
much of him. One day the Colonel told him that 
he was to accompany him on a matter of business. 

They set out in a buggy, drawn by a span of fine 
bays, across the country to the home of George 
Weatherby. Mr. Weatherby lived a retired life, 
never read a newspaper, and had learned nothing 
of his nephew’s saving the bank or being declared 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


3SS 


innocent of the Mark Hunt robbery. The whole 
aim and intent of Mr. Weatherby now was to dis- 
pose of his property, go to Virginia, seize the estate 
of his nephew, and hide himself. 

The only weapon Colonel Hale carried with him 
was the registered letter taken from the train when 
it was robbed. The days had grown shorter and 
much colder, and the lawyer and the student wore 
heavy overcoats. There had been no snow yet, but 
the frost of the night before lay on the blades of 
dead grass and fences, and the cold, icy blasts of 
winter swept through the barren branches of the 
denuded trees along the road. 

When they reached the Weatherby house they 
found the whole place a scene of confusion. House- 
hold treasures were being boxed and got ready for 
shipment, and the family was to go in a day or two. 

“Are you Mr. Weatherby?” asked Colonel Hale, 
approaching a sharp-visaged, eagle-eyed old man 
who stood in the yard, giving orders about the box- 
ing of his goods. 

“ Yes. What ye want with me ?” 

“ What we have to say is of a private nature.” 

Weatherby looked around uneasily, wondered 
what “ th’ dum fool is drivin’ at,” and asked them 
to come in the house. When they were in the sit- 
ting-room, now almost bare of furniture. Colonel 
Hale said : 

“ You have a nephew named Arthur West- 
fall?” 

“ Yes, a worthless, onnery, good-fur-nuthin’ cuss, 
who stole money out o’ Mark Hunt’s till — ” 


356 


Mysterious Mr, Howard. 


“ No ; beg pardon, Mr. Weatherby. Mr. Hunt 
has discovered the real thief, who is now in the 
penitentiary for the crime. Your nephew is inno- 
cent.” 

“ Wall, he’s onnery az darnation anyway, an’ run 
off an’ no one knows where he is — ” 

“ No ; beg pardon again. He is in Starkeville.” 

“Wall, I hain’t agoin’ t’ maintain him furever. 
He’s no account an’ won’t work.” 

“ He doesn’t ask aid of you, for he has an excel- 
lent position in the Hawley bank at a princely 
salary.” 

“ Then what th’ deuce ye botherin’ me about him 
fur?” 

“ I wanted to ask you if your nephew is not heir 
to some property in Virginia ?” 

“ No, his people war pore az church mice.” 

“ But he had a snug little fortune of something 
over five hundred thousand dollars coming to him, 
and you were his guardian.” 

“ Who told you that ?” 

“ Your lawyer, Allen Cravensford.” 

“ It ’s false.” 

“Well, here is a copy of a letter. I have the 
original ; the copy will serve for you,” and he 
handed him a copy of the letter to read, which he 
did. He was thunderstruck, and pale as a ghost, 
while he trembled from head to foot. At last break- 
ing forth in a rage, he cried : 

“ It’s all a pack of falsehoods.” 

“ But, my dear sir, Mr. Cravensford has been seen ; 
the whole matter investigated in Virginia, and now 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


357 


you must either sign this paper or go to the peni- 
tentiary for swindling and embezzling^fce property 
of your ward.” 

Mr. Weatherby raved and swore at the fates 
which compelled him to part with that which he 
believed he had “ honestly stolen,” but Colonel 
Hale was inexorable as fate. Like a bull-dog when 
he has once set his teeth into his victim, he clung 
to him with a death-grip. It resulted in his signing 
the paper which released all his rights in the estate 
of his ward, now of age. 

“ Now, sir, you. must come with me,” said the 
lawyer. 

“Whar?” 

“We will go to a notary and have this acknowl- 
edged.” 

“ Why, what ’s th’ use ?” ' 

“Oh, it’s only a whim of mine; come on. You 
can go either with me or with the sheriff.” 

Weatherby was a coward, and the word “sheriff” 
sent a cold shiver through his frame. He sprang 
into the buggy and they drove into the village, had 
the paper acknowledged and attested by the no- 
tarial seal of the officer, and then the Colonel sent 
a telegram to some one in Virginia, and received 
for answer : 

“ All right !” 

The paper was then sent by registered letter, and 
a few weeks later Arthur was apprised of the fact 
that a handsome fortune awaited his order. The 
real estate was sold for a good round sum, and with 
the proceeds he bought a half-interest in the Haw- 


358 


Mysterious Mr, IFotvard, 


ley Bank, of- which he was already the popular 
cashier. 4^ 

***** -X- 

A few words more and the story will be finished. 
Meeker, by the influence of strong friends, got off 
with only ten years in the penitentiary, and died of 
consumption, shame and remorse before half the 
term was served out. 

After the ineffectual effort to rob the Hawloy 
Rank, the Missouri banditti for a long time disap- 
peared from the State. Though Arthur received 
some anonymous letters threatening his life, he was 
never molested, and soon ceased to fear them. In 
time he renewed his calls at the Hawley mansion 
and came to love Grace more and more, and one 
evening, in a fit of desperation, proposed, and was 
in due time accepted. They were married, and 
settled down to what is hoped will be a long and 
happy life. General Hawley has retired from busi- 
ness and spends his time with his grandchildren, 
of whom there are five — three sturdy boys and two 
girls, who promise to be as beautiful as their 
mother. Mrs. Westfall is still youthful, still hand- 
■ some, the favorite of their wide circle of friends, 
and the idol of her husband. Sometimes, as he 
fondles her pretty ears, he thinks that, after all, it 
was well that he served an apprenticeship at train- 
robbing, for how else could he have saved them 
from the bandit’s knife? 

^ The day Horace Rathburne was admitted to prac- 
tice in the courts of Missouri, Flora Wells became 
his wife, and he was at once admitted into full 


Mysteriotts Mr, Howard. 


359 


partnership with Colonel Hale. As Arthur and 
Horace were friends, their wives, from mutual sym- 
pathy, also became intimate. Their children grew 
up and became friends, until the two families were 
almost inseparable. 

Hale & Rathburne ere long became one of the 
strongest legal firms in Missouri, the junior partner 
proving himself the equal of the senior, proving 
that Colonel John Hale had made no mistake when 
he said that he was a born lawyer. The halo of 
romance which had hovered about the young attor- 
ney, and the general sympathy which the public 
feels toward one 'who has been greatly wronged, 
made him a general favorite. Mr. Wells, from 
having a son-in-law of whom he was ashamed, came 
to have a son-in-law of whom he was justly proud. 
As years rolled on and the popularity of young 
Rathburne increased, he was induced to embark in 
the field of politics. The Congressional district in 
which he lived had been represented by an old, 
superannuated fossil, a worn-out politician, and the 
people clamored for a change. Young Rathburne 
was named for his place, and was elected by an over- 
whelming majority. In his new field as a states- 
man he bids fair to surpass himself as a lawyer. 

We must not forget the old Newburg tavern and 
its odd proprietor*. The tavern is to-day tenanted 
only by owls and bats, or a stray sheep that may 
'wander thither during the hot summer days. The 
window panes are nearly all broken out ; the shut- 
ters are off or hang by one hinge, and the old house 
is in the last stages of decay, while on the hill above 


360 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


sleep its owners and their two faithful servants. 
Uncle Reuben Price satday after clay in his old arm- 
chair, waiting for a return of business, for which he 
hoped to the last. One day* he was silent longer 
than usual, and Aunt Rachel noticed that his pipe 
had fallen from his hand and his head lay on his 
left arm. She shook him, and was .shocked to find 
him stiff and cold. She called loudly for help, but 
Uncle Reuben would wait no more for the return 
of Newburg’s glory. The stage-horn would never 
make music for his ears again. Aunt Rachel fol- 
lowed him soon, and the faithful servants a year or 
two later. The forest has swallowed up the old 
road, and the ruin of the old tavern is all that is left 
to mark the place where Newburg stood. 

In the spring of 1882 the whole country was 
shocked at a murder in St. Joseph, Missouri. Mr. 
Thomas Howard, his wife and two children lived 
quietly in a neat little cottage at No. 1318 Lafayette 
street. Two young men, supposed to be relatives 
or friends, came to live with them. Mrs. Howard 
was spoken of as an estimable lady, frequently seen 
at church and Sunday-school with her children. 
One day, while the wife was cleaning house, the 
husband thought to assist her, and was standing on 
a chair with a feather duster, brushing a picture 
on the wall, when one of the young men stepped 
behind him and shot him through the head. The ; 
wife, who was preparing dinner, rushed in, in time ; 
to hold his head while he breathed his last. Both 
young men were arrested, gave their names as Bob 
and Charles Ford, and told the world that he whom 


Mysterious Mr. Howard. 


361 


they had slain was Jesse W. James, the great bandit 
chief of Missouri. When the house was searched, 
an old trunk was found, among other things, with 
the name F. Wells ” on the end. 

Mrs. Flora Rathburne read the story in the daily 
paper while she rocked the cradle in which her 
first-born slept. Gently folding the paper so as not 
to disturb the sleeping infant, she laid it aside and, 
with moistened eyes, said : 

“ So he was the mysterious Mr. Howard !” 


THE END. 


Mrs. Barr’s New Novel. 


The Flower of Gala Water. 


BY 

Amelia E. Barr, 

Author of Girls of a Feather^' The Bow of 
Orange Ribbon^' “ Friend Olivia” “ The 
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^Easter Bellf' Mrs. Barrs 
Short Stories” etc.^ etc. 


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A Story of the French Revolution. 


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the Guillotine. 

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A New Novel. 


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A New York Novel. 


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A New Story by the Author of “ Two (jentleitiett 
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On a False Chargee. 


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who introduce us to new and captivating fields of action. The 
world is becoming so narrow and well-travelled that our best 
writers enlarge its borders by the aid of imagination, and this 
faculty is the secret of their charm. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent postpaid 
on receipt of price by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


A Woman’s Book. 


The House by the River. 


BY 

Barbara Kent. 


With Illustrations by Warren B. Davis. 


12mo. 328 Pagres. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 60 Cents. 


“ The House by the River” is a woman’s book frohi beginning 
to end. It is an interesting novel, uith the principal scenes in 
the city of New York and in familiar localities. In the opening 
of the story there is a strong dramatic recital of events upon 
which the plot hinges, and which give a deep and thrilling inter- 
est to the development of the romance of two young lives. The 
vindictiveness of a man who has been compelled to do right under 
humiliating circumstances gives a strong motive to the whole 
action of the story. Every reader will be gratified by the way in 
which the conclusion is reached. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent postpaid 
on receipt of price by the publishersj 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


THE CHOICE SERIES. 


No. AND Title. 


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“A Ketrotiml Laura Jean Libbey 

-Henry HI. Stanley Henry Frederick Keddall 

Wouble Liile Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

Mrs. E, D. E, N. Southworth 

-The Gunniaker of Moscow... Sylvanus Cobb, Jr 

Major A. H. Calboun 

—The Hidden Hand Mrs. E. D. E. N. boutbworth 

-Sundered Hearts Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

-The Stone-Cutter of Lishon.-Prof. Wm. Henry Peck 

-Lady Kildare Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

-Cris Rock Captain Mayne Leid 

-Nearest and Dearest Mrs. E. D. E. N. feouthwortb 

-Th© Bailiff’s Scheme Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

-A Leap in the Dark Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southwortb 

-The Old Life’s Shadows Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

-The Lost Lady of Lone Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southwortb 

-For Woman’s Love Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southwortb 

-Cesar Birotteaii Honore De Balzac 

-The Baroness Blank August Niemann 

-Parted hy Fate Laura Jean Libbey 

-The Forsaken Inn Anna Katharine Green 

— OttiAe Aster’s Silence Mrs. D. M. Lowrey 

-Edda’s Birthright Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

-The Alchemist Honore De Balzac 

-Under Oath Jean Kate Ludlum. 

-Cousin Pons Houoi'eDe Balzac 

—The Unloved Wife Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southwortb 

—Lilith “ “ “ 

-Reunited A Popular Southern Author 

-Mrs. Harold Stagg Robert Grant 

-The Breach of Custom Mrs. D. M. Lowrey. (Translator). 

-The Northern Light E. Werner 

Beryl’s Husband Mrs. Harriet Lewis 


-A Love Match Sylvanus Cobb, Jr. 

-A Matter of Millions Anna Katharine Green 

-Eugenic Grandet Honore De Balzac 

-The Imnrovisatore Hans Christian Andersen 

-Paoli, the Warrior Bishop... W. C. Kitchin 

-Under a Cloud Jean Kate Ludlum 

-Wile and Woman Mary J. Saff'ord 

-An Insignificant Woman W. Heiraburg 

-The Carletons Robert Grant 

-Mademoiselle Desroches Andre Theuriet 

-The Beads of Tasmer Mrs. Amelia E. Barr 

-John Winthrop’s Defeat Jean Kate Ludlum 

-Little Heather-Blossom Mary J. Safl'ord. (Translator). 

-Gloria Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southwortb. 

-David Lindsay 

-The Little Countess S. E. Boggs. (Translator) 

-The Chaiitauqiians John Habbertou 

-The Two Husbands Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

-Mrs. Barr’s Short Stories — Mrs. Amelia E. Barr 

-We Parted at the Altar Laura Jean Libbey 

-Was She \Vife or Widow?... Malcolm Bell 

-The Country Doctor Honore De Balzac 

-Florabcl’s I.over Laura Jean Libbey 

-Lida Campbell Jean Kate Ludlum 

-Edith Trevor’s Secret... Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

-Cecil Rosse “ “ 

-Love is Lord of All From the German 

-True Daughter of HartensteinFrom the German 

-Zina’s Awaking Mrs. J. Kent Spender 

-Morris Julian’s Wife Elizabeth Clmis 

-Dear Elsie From the German 

-The Hungarian Girl “ “ 

-Beatrix Rohan Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

-A Son of Old Harry Albion W. Tourgee 

-Romance of Troiiville Brehat 

-Life of General Jackson Oliver Dyer 

-The Return of the O’Mahouy. Harold Frederic 

-Reuben Foreman, the Village Blacksmith. Darley Dale... 

-Neva’s Three Lovers Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

-“Em” Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southwortb. 

-“Em’s” Husband 


Cloth. Paper. 

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«ocoooo©oosocooco©ccc.©©cooooooc ©®c©©co©©©©©©©©©©©©®ooc®©©ooc©oo©cc©o©c©c©® 


THE CHOICE 5ERIES-Continued 


No. AND Title. 


Author. 


76— The llaiintcd Husband Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

77— The Siberian Exiles Col. Thomas W. Knox 

78— The Spanish Treasure Elizabeth C. Winter 

79— The Kinf? of Honey Island — Maurice Thompson 

80— mate of the “Easter Bell ’’..Mrs. Amelia E. Barr 

81— The Child of the Parish Marie von Ebnet-EschenbaCh 

82— Miss Mischief. W. Heimburg 

83— The Honor of a Heart From the German 

84— Tmnsgressing the liaw Capt. Frederick Whittaker 

85 — Hearts and Coronets Jane G. Fuller 

86— Tressilian Court Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

87— Guy Tressilian’s Fate “ 

88— Mynheer Joe 8t. George Rathbome 

89— The Frolcr Case From the French by H. O. Cooke... 

90— A Priestess of Comedy Nataly von Eschstruth 

91— All or Nothing Count Nepomuk Czapski 

92— A .Skeleton in the Closet Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth 

^-Brandon Coyle’s Wife “ “ “ 

94— Love Honore De Balzac 

95— The Tell-Tale Watch Prom the German 

96— Hetty; or the Old Grudge — J. H. Connelly 

97— Girls of a Feather Mrs. Amelia E. Barr 

98— Appassionato Elsa D’Esterre-Keeling.... 

99— Only a Girl’s Heart Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth 

100— The lleiected Bride “ “ “ 

101— Gertrude Haddon “ “ 

102— Countess Dynar, or Polish Blood. Nataly von Eschstruth 

103— A Sleep-Walker Paul H. Gerrard 

104— A Lover From Across the Sea and Other Stories. E. Wernef.. 

105— A Princess of the Stage Nataly von Eschstruth 

106— Countess Obernau Julien Gordon 

107 — The Gun-Bearer E. A. Robinson and G. A. Wall 

108— Wooing a \Vido\v Ewald August Koenig 

109— Her Little Highness Nataly von Eschstruth 

110— In the China Sea Seward W. Hopkins 

111— Invisible Hands P. von Zobeltitz 

112— Yet She Loved Him Mrs. Kate Vaughn 

113 — The Mask of Beauty Fanny Lewald 

114— Two Gentlemen of Hawaii. Beward W. Hopkins 

115— The Shadow of the Guillotine Sylvanus Cobb, Jr 

116— Mystery of Hotel Brichet Eugene Chavette 

117— Blanche of Burgundy Sylvanus Cobb, Jr 

118— The Opposite House Nataly von Eschstruth 

119— The Flower of Gala Water. Mrs. Amelia E. Barr 

120— For Another’s Wrong W. Heimburg 

121— On a False Charge Seward W. Hopkins 

122— A Treasure Found— A Bride Won. George E. Gardner 

123— The House by the River Barbara Kent 

124— At a Great Cost Effle Adelaide Rowlands 

125— The Meredith Marriage Harold Payne 

126— Holdenhiirst Hall Walter Bloomfield 

127— Little Kit , Efile Adelaide Rowlands 

128— The Mystery of the Inn by the .Shore. Florence Warden 

JtD 

For sal^Jb^jC^y^Booksellers and Newsdealei 
postpaid on reeeip*of price by the publishers, 


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ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


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